The Grunt's Guide to Warfare
by Tirya King
Summary: G1. Some things are universal throughout the galaxy. The rules of warfare being some of them. If you wish to be a proper soldier, you must learn these very important laws and incorporate them throughout your daily life.
1. Sunstreaker

Title: The Grunt's Guide to Warfare

Author: Tirya King

Category: General/Humor

Summary: G1. Some things are universal throughout the galaxy. The rules of warfare being some of them. If you wish to be a proper soldier, you must learn these very important laws and incorporate them throughout your daily life.

Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers, and I'm too tired to think up a witty saying to go with the disclaimer.

A/N: This will be a series of one-shots demonstrating the Murphy's laws of warfare, doctors, police, etc. I obtained the lists by googling it, so I don't own the list either. Some one-shots will be funny, others less so. This is one that I found to be a nice mixture of both and decided it would be the one to start us off.

Part One

"You're slaggin' me, Prowl. You want me to _what_?"

"Sunstreaker, I've known you since you were a mere million years old. You should know by now I don't slag. And I believe you heard me the first time."

The yellow warrior in question crossed his arms indignantly. "So send 'Sides. He's better at this sort of thing than I am."

"Which is precisely why I'm sending you. You need more experience in the field."

Sunstreaker's ice blue optics widened incredulously, not sure that he was actually hearing this. "I need more _what_ in the _what_!"

"If your audio sensors are malfunctioning, I suggest you see Ratchet before you go."

Of course they both knew the melee warrior would go a week without waxing before he would dare bother Ratchet unless he totally had to. The CMO had a habit of inflicting more pain on his favorite set of twins than the enemy when he thought his time was being wasted.

"Prowl, I kill things for a living! I'm big and mean and a conceited sociopathic Dandelion of Death!"

There was a hint of upturned lips from the Vice Commander. "Your words, Sunstreaker. Not mine."

The dry humor, and even the uncharacteristic sparkle in Prowl's optics, didn't register with the self-appointed sociopath. Trying his best to glower down, and thereby intimidate the smaller mech, Sunstreaker said in his best 'I'm really pissed off and have enough firepower to eradicate all evidence of your existence' voice, "The point is, Prowl, I don't play with carbon-based squishies. You want a PR man, ask one of your civis."

Prowl wondered, in the back part of his mind, if either twin would ever learn that while they could strike the fear of Primus into the majority of the fleet, he was not intimidated so easily. All Sunstreaker managed to achieve was the appearance of a very self-righteous and very ridiculous sunflower.

"I wouldn't let any of the Witwickys hear you refer to their species as 'carbon-based squishies' if you don't fancy waking up one morning with the central processor of a fledgling femme. And I would think you would be a bit more excited about showing yourself off to the general population. My 'civis,' as you call them, do this sort of thing all the time. I believe you can sacrifice one evening to expand your horizons beyond your sociopathic pastimes."

From the expression on the melee warrior's beautiful face, one would think he'd just been ordered to roll in a large mud puddle.

Seeing that logical arguments had failed on the logic-obsessed officer, the young mech resorted to his fallback strategy. "But Proooowl!" he whined loudly and obnoxiously. "You can't possibly..."

"Care less, I assure you." He handed a datapad to his subordinate, allowing himself to enjoy the fact that he was torturing the Deadly Dandelion half as much as he was tortured on a daily basis. Being the resident twin-sitter had to have its perks after all. "Here are the directions, the Ops order, and the names and pictures of every orphan you will be meeting at the house."

"Prowl, c'mon," Sunstreaker continued, unable to admit defeat. "Miniature humans? They're messy and loud and annoying and…"

"And you're going to be their best friend if you don't want to join Trailbreaker and Hound on their next off-road trip."

He looked positively scandalized. "You wouldn't dare!"

"I'll even pick out the perfect route for you three. Now shoo, I have quite a bit of work to do and not much time to do it." He picked up the nearest datapad to emphasize this fact.

"Proooowl…"

The Vice Commander narrowed his optics in annoyance and dropped his datapad. "Are you aware, Sunstreaker, of just how many swamps exist in the state of Oregon alone?"

Sunstreaker, defying the laws of Cybertronian physiology, visibly paled at least 10 shades. "Can't I take Sideswipe with me at least?" he asked meekly.

Shaking his head, Prowl picked up the datapad again. "He is your twin, not your shadow. Besides, this will be a good learning experience for you. If it will ease your mind, you may think of him in a less pleasant situation."

"_Is_ he in a less pleasant situation?"

Prowl's mouth twitched into a faint shadow of a smile. "No. But you may think of him as such."

"But that's not…"

Dismissed."

"But…"

"_Dismissed_, Sunstreaker. Interrupt me again and you will spend every waking moment of next month's leave in the foulest swamp I can find."

Knowing that not only did his Vice Commander not bluff, but that he also had a wicked sense of humor when pushed, the yellow warrior wisely chose to give up this battle. He wouldn't win and he knew it.

Besides, it was just a few human fledglings right?

A house of human fledglings. Fledglings who were sloppy and loud and annoying and about as bright as Sludge…

Primus, what had he done in a past life to deserve this?

OoOoOo

"Ah, it's ol' Sunny back from his day of Show and Tell," Sideswipe sang from his position at an image console.

Looking like a shining golden Angel of Death, Sunstreaker sent a murderous glare in his brother's direction, making the temperature of the room drop by a few degrees.

"Eat slag and die," he growled, engine revving dangerously.

However, the effect, intimidating as it was, was lessened by the fact that all shades of crayon decorated his exterior. No doubt the interior of his alternate mode was quite… creatively decorated as well. Smears of what looked suspiciously like macaroni and cheese covered his legs and something green and drippy hung off an audio panel. A wreath of daisies hung around his neck like some exotic award.

The great Sunstreaker himself looked like he had taken on an army straight from Lord of the Flies and lost most beautifully.

Where oh where was a camera when one needed it?

A brilliant flash originated from the corner of the room where stood young Outback looking positively jolly. Ah, there was that camera. As Sunstreaker turned his currently green and slimy head toward the mini-bot, Outback seemed to realize just what he had done.

Those not laughing their processors out silently mourned their comrade's imminent deactivation by way of 3 tons of laser sword-wielding sunshine.

They had never seen that little bot move so fast. After safely subspacing his camera first, of course.

An hour later, having just returned from delivering the very sorry little gunner to an apoplectic Ratchet, Sunstreaker finally made it to his quarters. He needed a good half-megacycle or so in the wash rack just to get rid of the marks and he didn't want to know how long it would take to work out the dings and scratches…

Looking behind him to make sure no one, especially his brother, was there, he reached behind his neck and unhooked the daisy chain gingerly. He walked to a spot on the wall marked with a nearly indistinguishable scratch. Not even his brother knew of this secret compartment. Sliding the section open, he placed the daisies inside, careful not to harm the delicate things.

Looking over his shoulder again in a good imitation of poor paranoid Red Alert, he quickly summoned a piece of paper from subspace. Giving it another once over, he made out the tall yellow figure that was supposed to be him with the little smiling people around him who were apparently the children and their caretakers. A house was in the background next to a large happy sun and little birds on the wing. On the back it was signed by 'Samantha' to her 'favrit Atobot Sunstreecer.'

Rolling up the little piece of paper he stuffed it in alongside his other little trinkets. Well, it wasn't like he was keeping them for any sort of real purpose anyway. Just a reminder of what a hellish day he'd gone through. He was Sunstreaker, the great handsome melee warrior. Not some little soft human lover like Bumblebee. He wasn't sentimental like that to keep some child's gift just because she didn't look at him like the Autobots did with nervousness and distrust in their optics. Or like the Decepticons did filled with fear.

Of course not.

Now, about that date he had with that wash-rack…

**Murphy's Law of Warfare: Decisions made by someone over your head will seldom be in your best interest.**

**A/N**: This was once a story all by itself, but when I couldn't go any further with it, I decided to put it on the 'hiatus' pile. A few weeks later, I re-read what I had and decided: hey, wouldn't this make a fun Murphyism?

**A/N 2**: For those of you waiting for the next part to 'No More Mr. Nice Guy,' don't fret! Ti is working on it diligently and it is about half-way done. (Real life is a real pain at times.) As I will be leaving for two months next Sunday, this week I will scramble to update what I can. After the 26th, there will be complete 'radio silence' until I get back. The good news is that I will be writing with good old fashioned pen and paper while I am away teaching so expect a very _very_ huge bunch of updates upon my return.


	2. Bumblebee

A/N: Here is the second part for you wonderful people. I have at least 3 more all written out and more are on their way to completion, so I will post one per day until I go. Enjoy!

Part Two

No one was quite sure what had happened that day. Everyone told a different version, and there were certain things that didn't add up when stories crossed. Some say there had been weapons involved. Others maintained that only words were spoken. Whatever had happened, it had been quick and it had been devastating.

And it was a tale that would last for years to come, growing better and bigger with each retelling.

If Brawn had been involved, it would have sparked little interest. Cliffjumper, Warpath, Windcharger… it was perfectly feasible that they might have been the one to finally put a stop to the sport. Pipes or Powerglide some could even see. In the end, however, it was Bumblebee who had proven his merit that day.

Ultimate Mini-bot… now there was a sport if Sunstreaker had ever played one. An underground one, of course, since if the higher-ups caught it in action, he would be cleaning the Ark's walls until he was as old as Ironhide. Prowl knew about it, of course, he wasn't stupid by any stretch of the imagination. But he could never seem to catch the twins or their playmates in the act of it, which gave them the courage to continue. The Minis would bitch about it, of course, but so far their cries had fallen on helpless audios who could do nothing. They weren't harmed, well… usually, and technically no rules had been broken. No one ever said you could get court-martialed for using a teammate as a projectile. The only thing the little ones could do was try to hide when the larger bots had the hankering for some fun.

Outback was a favorite target, as was Gears and Huffer. But it was Cliffjumper who was most sought after. There was something about the little twerp that ticked off enough of the force that what had once been a hobby to some became a favorite pastime to many. So long as the diminutive whiner was the one played with, there would never be a lack of participants.

On this one day in question, however, the little red mech was not to be found. He had probably gotten wind of the game being set up and made himself scarce. In fact, the only one Sunstreaker could find was Bumblebee who apparently missed the memo to flee. There was nothing the yellow Lamborghini had against the little spy, which most couldn't claim. They pretty much left each other alone as they were nearly entire opposites. But that didn't mean he would turn down the one chance he had to unwind and play.

To his credit, Bumblebee didn't even try to fight the much _much_ larger warrior off. He was smarter than that. So being held by the scruff of his neck, little yellow and big yellow made their way to the southern side of the Ark just on the opposite side of the entrance. Fortunately the majority of the fleet, rusty old brass included, were out for the day doing community service or some slag like that. Leaving those off duty free with reign of the Ark.

Sidewipe looked up as his brother returned from his task of finding their 'ball' for the day. He frowned at the choice having expected someone a little more spunkier and a little more red. "Sunny, you couldn't find…"

"Hey, slag off, I did what I could."

"You know," Bumblebee piped in, trying for one last ditch effort. "I agree with Sideswipe. I'm really not the mech for the…"

"Quiet," Sunstreaker glared down at him.

Bumblebee quieted.

"It's all in good fun, Bee," the red twin grinned in what he must have thought to be a reassuring manner. "No harm done."

_He_ wasn't the one being used as a projectile so his opinion meant slag. The little spy chose not to point this out seeing as how it was up to Sideswipe and his teammates whether or not to catch him. But the fact of the matter was he was sick and tired of this game. He wanted it to end and he wanted it to end now. Preferably before he had his manifold forcibly rearranged by multiple hard landings.

Before he could even think of a possible solution to the problem, teams had been chosen and he was in the middle of two very large and very eager mechs.

Air Raid crouched, ready for the beginning toss. Sideswipe across from him widened his stance, ready to charge if need be. Tracks clenched and unclenched his fists while Fireflight shifted his weight from one foot to another. Slingshot cracked his knuckles. Blades grinned in anticipation. Trailbreaker looked uneasy about having the yellow mini-bot as the ball of the day, but didn't impede on the game. Slag, who had somehow wormed his way into the event, just looked as happy as a Dinobot could be.

Bumblebee had a bad feeling about this…

"Everyone ready?" Sunstreaker called out, getting ready to toss the small bot into the air.

Bumblebee wondered what would happen if he said 'no'. Then he remembered just who had him in his grip and went as still as possible. It would all be over soon anyway.

"Go!" Sunstreaker cried out, throwing Bumblebee with all of his power, which was not something to scoff at. Yelping in momentary panic, the yellow mini-bot curled up into a ball, remembering a tip from Outback on how to avoid losing limbs. Activating his optics for a moment, he saw the large, hard ground coming at him very quickly. He braced himself for impact, praying that his next life would not have any Lamborghinis, siblings, or huge warriors with the egos of… well… huge Lamborghini sibling warriors.

He needn't have worried about his next life, for Air Raid had out maneuvered the red melee warrior and caught Bumblebee easily. The little spy was then passed to Slingshot, and the game was in full force.

Somewhere amidst the jostling and banging and air sickness, Bumblebee's nearly endless pool of patience and cheer dried up. This was cruel and unusual and if he had to put up with one more bot using him like an impromptu frisbee, he was going to snap. He wasn't inferior just because he was small enough for some of them to step on. In fact, he was going to prove it once and for all. Right here and now.

Quickly summoning a half dozen discs from subspace, he waited until a very impressive throw from Sideswipe to his brother. Mid-throw, the spy let the discs fly, activating them as he went. His aim was true and each disc managed to lodge itself onto a player's chassis, one even smacking Sunstreaker in the center of his forehead. The mini-bot somersaulted and landed lightly on his feet, glad for all those years of espionage training. They always told him it would save his life one day, he just never thought it would save him from a game played by his own comrades.

Each of the players were effectively frozen in place, the discs having disrupted all motor circuitry. Non-lethal of course, but entirely undefeatable without the one with the master control to switch it off. That or a rather painful removal process done by a medic. Bumblebee made a mental note to save at least the twins to their local CMO. He had no doubt that Ratchet would be especially eager to do the procedure.

"You've all played your last game of Ultimate Mini-bot," he said in a strong clear voice to the group of 8 statues. There was no arguing with him then; for one because they had all lost the capacity to speak, but most of all because they knew that in their tiny yellow compatriot, they had met their match. They had underestimated the race of mini-bot, and once Ratchet and Prowl were done with them, they never would again.

**Murphy's Law of Warfare: If you survive the extraordinary things, it will often be the little things that will kill you.**

**A/N:** Just so you know, long before I was a Lambo-girl or even a follower of Prowl, Jazz, or Ratchet, I was a hopeless Bumblebee fan. Incurable really. For this chapter, I wanted to put in Ultimate Mini-bot again just because of its warm reception and figured that it was a good opportunity to throw ze bee into the limelight.

**Review Time!**

Trueborn Chaos: Thanks. You can do both you know. Oh and in response to your review in No More Mr. Nice Guy, I would love a list of your quotes. I'm a sucker for things like that.

Tiamat1972: Lol, there's a true statement if I ever read one. He's just a big cuddly dandelion of love… honestly… er, yeah. Nope, not even under pain of death would he ever admit it.

MariaShadow: Thank you so much : ) I rather liked that line too and is always a joy to write. I hope I have a good time to. – sigh – I will be a bit like poor Sunny, however, as I am not exactly Mary Poppins when it comes to children. 9 weeks teaching billions of kids… oy!

That Crazy Halo Girl: Hey hey! I noticed your deviant account and took a looksie. Your artwork is really coming along; I especially like your Sailor Halo pic. And I found many a sweet pic in your favs. Oh please don't die! After all, you really only need one pair of lungs, right?

Chiomon: Thanks! Oh, it's in there somewhere hidden underneath that vain, sociopathic externior… I think…


	3. Bluestreak

A/N: Ok, this one isn't as funny, but slag it all, don't we all have a soft spot for Blue? I actually found that his law held true during an Air Force field exercise involving paintballs and a Marine sergeant. Don't ask, it was long and involved and I learned the joy that comes with going against a berserker… and then of becoming one myself!

Part Three

The battle raged on with a ferocity rarely seen. If it got much worse, there might not be a tomorrow for many. Bluestreak would have done anything to escape this endless cycle of death and violence.

Anything but leave his friends.

A coward he might be, but a loyal coward. He would stick it out for as long as he was needed. Oh he was alright with a gun, he supposed. But he wasn't smart or powerful or charismatic. All he could do was use what little skill he had to watch his friends' backs. He was too afraid to do anything else. Too afraid of losing this second chance at life, such as it was.

Images of his fallen city flashed before his optics. The young gunner stiffened despite himself as he was drawn back to that terrible, hellish day. The bodies of his friends fell down around him, choking on their own fluids. Beautiful spires toppled to the ground in fire and shrapnel. And he was the only one spared out of the whole city. For nearly a week Bluestreak had been pinned beneath the rubble, just waiting for either Primus or the Decepticons to finally end his misery.

"Are you alright?" a soft but concerned voice asked. Prowl had approached him, crouching behind the boulder that sheltered the silver gunner. He did not ask what was wrong, there was little doubt that he knew. After all, the tactician had been among the team that rescued all those years ago. He hadn't died after all. He'd been saved, and in more ways than one.

Focusing on his Vice Commander's voice, Bluestreak pulled himself back from his memories. He grinned up at Prowl and held his gun tighter against him. "Fine," he answered, hoping to reassure him. Prowl didn't need to be distracted by one scared little gunner.

Fine. That was it. Prowl narrowed his optics when his young friend didn't babble on and on. Bluestreak was certainly not 'fine' and it didn't take his battle computer to deduce this. He hadn't been 'fine' for a long time now. But it couldn't be helped, and definitely not now. He had to trust that Bluestreak wouldn't freeze up again.

"I need to go up on that ridge," the white Datsun pointed toward a small hill to their right. "You must come with me to provide coverfire, alright?"

All the way over… Bluestreak looked into his Vice's expectant optics. Prowl wouldn't ask him to do something he couldn't do. He had faith in the gunner, so it was time he pulled through. He nodded, reloading his weapon for the big run.

"Ready?" Prowl asked, holding his acid-pellet blaster in preparation.

"Ready," Bluestreak answered.

"We run on my mark," he coiled like a giant spring, waiting for the right opportunity. Above them, Blue could hear the howls of delight from the twins as they wrestled with not-as-delighted jets. No matter how many times they landed on their skidplates, nothing could stop them from playing their jet-judo.

"Focus," Prowl murmured, sensing his wandering mind. Bluestreak obeyed, turning his head back to his Vice. He resisted the urge to look back when one of the twins were finally bucked off. It was a good thing too, because the white Datsun used this sudden distraction to his advantage.

"Now!" he cried, leaping out from behind the safety of the large boulder. Bluestreak sprang after him, turning to fire at any Decepticons who hoped to take out the Autbots' Second in Command, thereby crippling them.

They couldn't get to the ridge soon enough for the silver gunner. He never liked being this close to the front line and out in the open. He tended to be a missile magnet, to borrow one of Ratchet's more kind descriptions. Why Prowl wanted him was beyond poor Blue's reasoning.

Finally the outcropping was getting closer. The mad run was nearly over and no one had been blown to little Datsun-bits. Ah, but count on karma to throw that right back in your face…

So eager was Bluestreak to get to the protection of the rocky pile that he failed to watch his back. A large missile, courtesy of Onslaught, was sailing his way with the accuracy of the gunner himself.

Having seen the danger, Prowl leapt into action, unwilling to see his young friend get hurt under his orders. "Look out!" he cried, shoving Bluestreak out of the way and himself into harm's path.

"Prowl!" Bluestreak shouted in dismay, but it was too late. His Vice and dear friend had already taken his shot and lay in a smoking heap a few feet away.

Most, Bluestreak included, would put good money on a situation like this. And they would bet that if Bluestreak ever found himself in this position, the first thing he would do is freeze up followed by panicking and eventual deactivation by large unfriendly missiles.

Most, Bluestreak included, would lost this bet.

He didn't even think of what he was doing as he took quick control of the situation. Sending Onslaught a response by way of his own gun, Bluestreak stood over Prowl's prone form protectively. Any Decepticons hoping to take the advantage found themselves at the wrong end of the sharpshooter's gun. While Blue himself thought very little of his skills, there was no denying he was the best shot in the Ark. It didn't take the Decepticons long to leave him alone.

Well, he was too far from the line to drag Prowl to safety. His only other option was to take him behind the rock pile and into an indentation. So take him he did.

The indentation was larger than it first appeared, thank Primus, and Prowl was able to be hidden perfectly. Bluestreak crouched over him, eyeing the entrance nervously and ready to shoot anyone stupid enough to come after him. He wondered vaguely if this was how the frontline warriors felt every time they went into battle. So alive and in tune with themselves and their surroundings that they know everything going on around them.

Prowl groaned half-heartily before dropping back into stasis. Not knowing much about body structure, Bluestreak had no idea just how much danger his friend was in. But he was pretty sure that leaking that much mech fluid wasn't too good for one's health. He would be an easy target without the proper protection.

Protection the young gunner was willing and able to provide.

Whether because of Bluestreak's skills or simply because they didn't know where the Datsuns were, no Decepticons tried to corner them to test that protection. Slowly, the sounds of battle died down, though from his position Bluestreak had no idea who had won. The suspense was wearing on him, but he remained steady. Gun raised and finger on the trigger, he was ready to fire at whatever unlucky slagger decided to strike. Prowl would be protected if it meant one silly little gunner had to die. The Vice Commander, _his friend_, was worth so much more than that.

Just as the stress was beginning to show and his arm shook from being held so still, the sound of footsteps, many of them, approached the pile of boulders. They were getting nearer and nearer to his hiding spot. Whoever it was, they said no words, but remained as silent as possible. Bluestreak raised his gun from where it had been wavering and grit his teeth. If he was going down, he'd take as many of those Primus-damned 'Cons with him.

Four mechs emerged at the entrance at once, shouting something he couldn't make out. But the sight of them was enough to trigger his defense mechanism. Aim as true as if he were shooting point blank, he made short work of his enemies, firing all he had. Yelling out a war cry, he charged the startled four and their back-up. He wouldn't let what happened to his friends and family all those years ago happen to Prowl. Not while he could stop it.

So focused was he on driving the intruders out, that he forgot to watch the sky. A red laser shot the rifle from his hand, burning it in the process. However, the gunner quickly recovered, summoning a little blaster from subspace. With the initial four down for the count, he was able to swivel around even as he ran to fire at the enemy hidden in the sun.

Enemies converged all around him, finally able to overpower their lone adversary. Knocked to the ground, Bluestreak felt himself effectively immobilized by a much larger body over his. "Prowl!" he cried out in dismay. "Prowl, no!" How could he have failed? Now his superior would die and it was all his fault!

"Bluestreak! Calm down, son!"

"Leave him alone!" he hollered, trying to sound as fearsome as the twins even though he was easy prey. Perhaps if he could cause enough trouble, they could be distracted long enough for the Autobots to come back for them.

"It's me, Blue, now calm the slag down!"

Wait… who was calling him?

"C'mon, Blue, don't slagging do this!"

Was that…

"Ironhide?" he asked softly, he stopped his frantic movements though he was still trembling from his battle rush. The body above him eased somewhat, but did not get off completely. But at least his face wasn't still shoved into the dirt.

"Yeh alright, kid?" the voice rumbled above him. A voice clearly belonging to the old security officer.

"Ironhide? What's going on?" He pushed himself up to his elbows when the weight loosened further.

"You tell us, man," Jazz wheezed, clutching a nasty blast at his shoulder. "We showed up and you just went nuts."

"I…" his sapphire optics widened as he finally looked around at his surroundings. Sunstreaker, Mirage, Hound, and Smokescreen were all down, riddled with smoking holes. Swoop knelt on the ground cradling his charred wings. Most of the others were also in similar condition. Oh no, what had he done?

"But I… they…" he struggled to find the words to explain his actions, but there were none. He had attacked his own teammates, could have killed them! He had thought they were 'Cons and therefore hadn't held anything back. What if Hound or the others were dead?

To his surprise, Ironhide sat back and laughed hard as he held his belly. "Yeh wen' up against all us and yeh beat us back, kid. Ol' Sunny'll be feelin' that fo' weeks!" He dissolved into laughter again, many of the others chortling good naturedly as well.

"Relax, Blue-boy," Jazz grinned seeing the gunner look like he'd committed some atrocity. "Y' didn't hurt anyone that bad. Ratchet checked them out while we tried t' calm you down. Everyone's ok."

"But I could've killed someone!" He could have killed Ratchet, then who would there be to help Prowl? In his stupidity he could destroyed everything.

Somewhere in the background he heard Sideswipe groaning that Blue couldn't kill him if he shot at him all day. More laughter.

Jazz shook his head. "But you didn't so don't worry about it."

"Jazz is right, Bluestreak," a soft voice rumbled from behind. The silver Datsun turned around to face his Commander who also had more than one burn scorching his manifold. "You did what you had to to protect Prowl and we acted foolishly to charge in without thinking of what we'd find." His optics creased at the edges, betraying a smile beneath his faceplate. "I imagine you taught us all a very important lesson that won't be forgotten easily."

Bluestreak relaxed a bit, hearing Prime assure him that he didn't screw up as badly as he thought. He even managed a small smile for the others and the laughter resumed.

"That's the last time I try to approach you cornered," Smokescreen chuckled even though he had an angry-looking wound on his leg. "And no matter how much Sideswipe denies it," he raised his voice so the bot in question could hear, "he'll be having nightmares about you and your gun for weeks."

"Slag off," the red warrior grumbled as he tended to his unconscious brother.

"You've been slacking on us, Blue," Trailbreaker admonished gently. "Who knew you could fight like that? That was amazing!"

"Well everyone, here's the princess behind the dragon," Ratchet announced as he carried a barely functioning Prowl out from the little cave Bluestreak had found. A cheer came from the others that their sudden confrontation, and manifold-beating, paid off in the end. Prowl was safe.

Blustreak walked up to the medic to check in on his friend who was being put on a stretcher. While he knew it was all just a misunderstanding he still felt sheepish at being so silly. He could have done some real damage that day.

Prowl looked over at him, weak but coherent. He didn't say a word, nor smile at his remorseful protector. Only reached up and clasped Blue's forearm with a hand that trembled at the effort. He knew what Bluestreak had done for him even if it was a case of mistaken ability. And he knew just how well the protector had done his duty. Had the Autobots actually been Decepticons, Blue would have held them off long enough for help to arrive. His quiet approval and thanks did what the others' laughter couldn't.

Bluestreak finally smiled with the knowledge of a job well done.

**Murphy's Law of Warfare: When in doubt, empty your magazine (a.k.a. ammo)**

**A/N: **I can't tell if I like this one yet, but as it features Blue I thought it should go up. I am now taking requests for featured characters. I can do some more than once (I'll have to if I want to do all the ones I want to.) Right now I have Hound, the twins, and Jazz ready to go. So, who else?

**Review Time!**

MariaShadow: Yay, I made you smile! Oh, and in that last response what I meant to say was _Prowl_ is always a joy to write. I always thought of Ultimate Mini-bot as being like Ultimate Frisbee (oh the thoughts to come into my brain 6:30 a.m. at Physical Training sessions…)

Trueborn Chaos: Yup, I'll bet they think twice before playing that game again. Lol, it's up to you, whatever's easiest. I have a list too if you're interested.

Chiomon: Yay Bee! Yeah it's not too nice, but as Sides said 'It's all in good fun!' Zee Bee does rock indeedy!

ChibiProwl: I know it –pout-. Bumblebee needs to be in more stories I agree. I'll update when it's done, silly : ) but for you, I'll move it along. Oy, I have him purr for you and now you want him to have his own story? Lol, ok if you say so! He's your favorite? Really? Wow, where have I been? ; )

Moxie Thuringwethil: See, if they had done that, they would have known to leave him alone. 'The least likely can be the most dangerous.' See, I knew that from the top of my head. I'm an old Bee fan, it's my job to be a dork about it : P Yup, us short people need our revenge somehow, right?

Tiamat1972: Yup, that's Ultimate Mini-bot! Based off Ultimate Frisbee of course. It is the quiet ones, isn't it? The Lambos, lovable as they are, do need to be put down a peg now and then. What other WIP's would you like? I am ashamed to admit I have a few : )

Stelartron: Lol, don't we all? As a short person myself, it did feel pretty good to get some revenge for all the abuse we go through : )


	4. Jazz

A/N: Here is the next part up like I promised. Here is Jazz and a very odd situation.

Part Four

Transforming, Jazz turned to his team behind him, motioning that they keep quiet. They were nearing the target site and needed the element of surprise. The lack of any movement on the opposite side of the field proved that Prowl had also exercised appropriate caution.

He wished he could radio out to the others, but knew he couldn't risk it. Soundwave was out there and any transmissions would be caught within nanoclicks. Their cover would be blown, shooting the whole mission to hell.

As the special ops officer took a look at their surroundings, he felt Mirage come to his side silently. Had Jazz not been so in tune with his environment, he'd never even known the spy was there.

Mirage looked questioningly at his superior. What now?

Jazz only grinned and knelt down, the rest of the team following suit. We wait.

And wait they did. The plan was for 3 teams, led by Prime, Prowl, and Jazz to surround the Decepticons in the field before moving in. The beginning of the ambush would be signaled by Prime's group charging in. Until then, orders were to stand by.

Those poor Decepticon saps, they would never know what hit them. Prowl was a genius when it came to strategies and the saboteur had every bit of faith in his friend's plan.

10 minutes later they were still waiting. No one was really concerned at this. There had most likely been a slight delay with one of the groups getting into place. Jazz smiled to himself; old Ironhide's joints were probably acting up again.

Ah, there it was! Prowl said he would reflect sunlight toward his position when he was ready. True to his word, there was a sudden shine of sun against metal. He signaled back and crouched into position once more.

30 minutes after this, he began to get a bit itchy to start the fight. It wasn't that he was impatient. In his line of work, patience was what saved or killed you. No, he could wait all day if need be. But the others weren't trained like he was.

Sideswipe was visibly getting bored now, and a bored Sides was a very bad thing. Especially without the buffer his brother made. Sunny had been assigned to Prime's group and was not around to reign in his stir-crazy other half. If that wasn't enough, Tracks was getting testy at the harm crouching in the dirt was doing to his sacred paintjob. Hound was spacing out as he appreciated the surrounding foliage. Bluestreak started fidgeting, looking more worried by the nanoclick and muttering to himself. Even Mirage looked to be at the end of his proverbial rope as he shimmered into and out of sight to keep himself occupied

If this attack didn't start soon, Jazz feared all-out anarchy. Not to mention the 'Cons may just up and leave.

Out of the corner of his visor, Jazz caught Cliffjumper tossing rocks and sticks at Sideswipe who was getting more and more stir-crazy. Oh Primus, now one of his mini-bots was feeling suicidal. Just what he needed…

"Jazz!" a cry came through the communicator making everyone jump. As he struggled to dislodge his spark from his throat, the saboteur recognized the voice of Prowl. "Jazz, respond!"

"What's up?" he asked, eyeing Soundwave in the distance, watching for any sudden moves. If the Decepeticon communications officer caught this…

"Where are you? We're under heavy fire and require your assistance." It seemed that even in the middle of battle, he didn't break his composure. In the back of his mind, Jazz wondered if he'd ever been truly upset a day of his life. The front of his mind, however, was more concerned with the extreme lack of battle going on in front of him.

"Um… are you sure?" he ventured, not knowing how else to word it.

"Jazz, I have no time for your…" and then the line went silent.

Oh slag it all, Soundwave seemed to have caught them at last. There were only two things to do at this point. Ambush or be ambushed.

"Autobots, attack!" he cried suddenly, coming to the more obvious conclusion.

The look Sideswipe sent his way was a creepy mixture of extreme impatience and how a femme might gaze upon her true love. The others, mercifully, only whooped in excitement and charged the field. Honestly, that kid scared him sometimes…

The Decepticons, only partially forewarned by Soundwave, scrambled to counter-attack. It seemed that they too were unaware of a fight with Prowl. Nevertheless, despite their state of unreadiness, the Decepticons hopelessly outnumbered the Autobots two to one.

Looking behind him briefly as he led the charge, Jazz was surprised, and yet not so, to see neither Prowl nor Prime leap to his aid. What in the name of Primus was going on?

"Jazz!" Hound called from his position behind some brush. He ducked quickly as a spray of bullets flew by. "Where is everyone?"

The group leader had no idea what to tell him. By all accounts this should be a quick and easy victory. Well it still was, but for the wrong side. With Soundwave jamming all transmissions, there was no way to find the missing 'bots either. Slag, where was Blaster when you needed him?

Shrugging in response to Hound, the bewildered Porsche pushed on doggedly, unwilling to be beaten so easily. He could see where this battle was leading, but knew it was still too early to call a retreat. As Prowl said to him once: 'Primus protects fools, fledglings, and the crew of the ship called Ark.' And Jazz did have rather good karma.

Needless to say, the attack did not go as well as they had hoped and not even rather good karma could prevent a total defeat. Jazz had a sharp mind and knew how to use it in a battle situation without their Vice to direct things. However, not even Prowl could out-maneuver this doomed endeavor let alone a poor special operations agent who generally worked alone. Sparing a glance at Sideswipe, he finally made the call to retreat. If even the melee fighter, who made the battlefield his natural habitat, looked like warmed-over slag then enough was enough.

"Fall back!" he sent over their short distance radio waves as Soundwave was still jamming all long-range communicators. "Everyone, fall back!"

The Autobots under his command needed little encouragement. With one final hurrah, they shot all they had to cover their retreat and fled like no one ever fled before. The Decepticons seemed too preoccupied with what they were actually supposed to be doing that they didn't bother pursuing them. It was obvious the Autobots had had enough and Megatron wouldn't appreciate any more delays.

When they finally reached the sanctuary of the Ark, the little sadistic side of Jazz that rarely reared its ugly head had to grin. The two other teams had already returned and looked nearly worse off than his own. Someone had messed up royally and he knew for sure it wasn't him.

"Where were you guys?" Sideswipe demanded of Sunstreaker and his teammates. "We got our afts kicked and you weren't there to back us up!"

"Us!" the battered yellow warrior cried out in indignation. "What about you? Where were you when Ramjet decided to use me as a battering target?"

"Where were either of you when the 'Cons beat the living tar out of _us_?" Gears snapped.

As the troops argued weakly back and forth, the three battered mechs in charge of the mission discussed what went wrong. In the end, it was a rather silly, but entirely avoidable error on their part.

The scouts had given the senior officers the location of the Decepticons. A place known to the humans as Lamb's Plateau.

Optimus Prime had read the location, in Hound's messy scrawl, as Lambo's Flat. A well-known location for the more… rambunctious of the Ark's crew to race each other.

Jazz thought they had meant Loose Ore, though neither Prime nor Prowl could understand why, and decided the location was by the mine shafts up north that were known for dangerous cave-ins.

Only Prowl, of the three, had the correct location as he was used to reading their head scout's handwriting by now. A fact that he felt rather smug about, though he would never rub it in… well, too much anyway. Only his door panels that were raised a few inches higher than normal revealed the confidence he felt in himself. At least up until the point that Jazz reminded him that since none of them had actually checked with each other ahead of time, they were all equally guilty.

The fact that Jazz had seen a glint of metal and taken it for a symbol, as well as the presence of Decepticons in all three places, appeared to be a freak coincidence.

They came to a unanimous conclusion that the fact that they all messed up royally needn't be leaked to the general populace. Already the troops had come to the conclusion that their 'fearless leaders' had slagged it up big time and needed no more fuel to fan the flames of mutiny.

**Murphy's Law of Warfare: Never underestimate the ability of the brass to foul things up. (fyi: Brass officers)**

**A/N:** I've definitely had days like that where my brain just won't work properly. I think I still need to work on pacing though. It feels choppy to me, what do you think? Anyway, thanks for all you comments and keep those ideas and requests coming!

MariaShadow: Thank you, I had hoped I did him alright. I think that was actually the first time I really tried to get into his head. I doubt Sideswipe will be forgetting that lesson too quickly as well : ) Well, I didn't leave enough bruises unfortunately. It was mostly the Marine that kicked us all in our collective butts. Marines are nuts I tell you! I did get a few good shots in though and I was able to practice playing berserker on my fellow cadets.

Trueborn Chaos: Lol, I don't think he's a coward at all actually, that's just how he feels. I'd be scared too if I were in his position. Omega? I have just the thing for him actually. Grimlock… ok, I think I know a good one for him too. I was only going to do Autobots, but I may change my mind. Why? Got any good ideas? My hotmail account is rather large too, so send what you want. I'll get my list together and send it before I leave.

Tiamat1972: That's the problem, I think, of having so many characters at once. There's never enough screen time for them all. I love Bluestreak too, he's such a cutie in my opinion : ) I don't remember that line… oh well, that's just an excuse for me to go watch it again! Lol, I would have liked to see their faces too. I bet they weren't expecting it one bit though. I will update all those, the first two are coming slowly but surely. I was on a real role with both of them, and for some reason, they just tried up. Grrrrr… I will try to stay sane and I'll miss you guys too! I'll find a good one for Trailbreaker. I need to read his profile again so I can get the feel of him. It's been a while since I've looked at him.


	5. Hound

A/N: Hm, I'm not a real fan of this one, but I've never written for Hound before and it was rather… meditative in a way. Plus it was good practice.

Part Five

Beneath his feet, the grass was cool and moist. The air blew along his plating gently, bringing the scent of new flowers to his olfactory sensors. Warm sunlight shined down on him gently, easing any tightness in his body. And just over that ridge there, he knew lay a large sparkling lake where a volcano crater used to be. He could imagine how it must look now on this beautiful spring afternoon.

Primus, how Hound loved his planet.

Not once had he ever regretted crashing here. He often envied the natives, these humans, for having such a planet to call their home. What they had here was so special, yet so many of them couldn't see it for the jewel it was. If he had the choice, the Autobot tracker doubted he'd ever leave.

Sure, he loved Cybertron; it was where he'd come on-line. Where he'd been raised. And it hurt to see it and its people wasting away; people that were killing each other for the last scraps of energon. But this planet, this beautiful planet full of life, could heal him of every ache in his body and soul. If only he could let it.

If only Prowl would slagging show up so he could go back to enjoying his Earth!

He'd been sent out here for scouting work nearly 2 hours ago. He hardly counted those hours as they went by; this was a job he was only too happy to do. With only him and nature surrounding him as he tracked each and every Decepticon down, there was little that could spoil his mood. Sure it was dangerous now and then; he'd had to get pretty close to the enemy on occasion so he could properly account for them. But he wouldn't trade this task for anything.

The little nicks and scratches that came with the occupation may have upset some of the others. Bots like Sunstreaker and Tracks were never meant to live his life. He wasn't negligent about his upkeep, but he didn't need 3 washings a day complete with waxing and buffering in order to function. As long as he was presentable and functioning properly, he honestly couldn't care about a few dings here and there.

Being out here also meant that he wasn't back there. Back there, the war was more real and the stakes higher. Here in the forest, he could observe, watch, take notes… he didn't have to be a warrior and take part in the endless fighting. He didn't have to be a killer. Oh, he'd shot his fair share of rounds into a bot and some of them never got up again. But every time he did it, a little more of him would hurt that much more. The pile of bodies would just grow that much higher with nothing being accomplished in the end.

Here, he could do his job and do it well. Perhaps the task he performed still added to the death toll of this war, but he didn't have to see it or feel it or smell it. Call him a coward, but he liked it better this way. His superiors must have seen it his way as well. How could they miss it, everyone knew he wasn't a natural born killer. Those warriors back home might call him weak or soft, but by Primus, here he was king. This was his element and he was at peace in it.

So Hound had done his job and found the Decepticons. Prowl was supposed to meet him at this location to discuss his findings just as he always did. This brought about the eternal question once more: where was he? He knew this was the right place; his sense of direction was unmatched in the Ark except for maybe Jazz or Trailbreaker. And Prowl wasn't too far behind them in directional skills.

He paced a little, getting anxious. The tactician couldn't have run into any trouble; Hound prided himself on knowing the position of every 'Con. He wondered for a moment if he should break radio silence to find out what was keeping his Vice Commander. At the last minute he thought better of it. Being close to the Decepticons all but assured that the airwaves were being monitored closely. Therefore, any transmissions flying around would definitely be intercepted thus wasting Hound's entire day.

So he waited.

At the end of 2 hours and 30 minutes he amused himself with holograms of Prowl getting his vocalizer choked out of him by an irate Hound. Now the green tracker was a gentle being at spark; wouldn't hurt a fly if it didn't bite him first. But there was something quite satisfying about letting his frustration out in a more barbaric form without any consequence. Yet even this eventually lost its charm.

At 3 hours, he was counting how many different kinds of trees he could see.

At 3 hours and 30 minutes, he'd fallen into a bit of a stupor.

He passed the time now by mentally going through what he would say if and when Prowl ever decided to show his sorry face. Everything from harsh reprimands to light chastisements ran around in his mind until he'd perfected the speech. He wasn't one for inspirational dialogue like Optimus and he didn't even understand half of what Perceptor liked to spout out. But he decided that this one was rather good. Short, to the point, and it clearly got the message across. He couldn't wait to try it out.

That is, of course, assuming that Prowl hadn't actually forgotten him.

It was a baseless fear. Their Vice would not dream of submitting a battle plan to Optimus without as much knowledge as possible. Knowledge that included the whereabouts of the entire Decepticon fleet. Hound worked long and hard to get that information and he would like to see his efforts properly paid off.

It wasn't as though he wanted all the credit. The green tracker didn't really even mind that he wasn't even acknowledged for his part in the creation of aforementioned battle plans. He knew Prowl and Prime appreciated it, and besides, he enjoyed his job. The knowledge that a plan succeeded because every 'Con was accounted for was satisfying enough for Hound.

But was it too much to ask that his slagging _existence_ be acknowledged!

Giving up on being found any time soon, he lay back with his engine rumbling impatiently. He knew he needed to calm down or there may be worse consequences than being insubordinate. The Decepticons weren't too far off and he still needed to be as stealthy as possible. That meant no loud venting of his frustration. Crossing his ankles and resting his head on his hands, he took a deep breath through his intake to relax.

As always, it was the nature around him that eased his troubled mind. If the Decepticons ever moved on from here, he'd like to take some long hikes up here in the future. Perhaps he would take young Bluestreak with him. The silver gunner was a prime example of why he didn't want to get too involved in this war. War could ruin so much and it very nearly ruined the sweet lad. The tracker figured he was the only bot other than the senior officers to know just why Bluestreak was so afraid at times and why he froze in battle for seemingly no reason at all. He valued the boy's friendship and trust, and was glad to be able to ease some of his pain in return.

Perhaps this planet could heal the orphan's spark just as it had healed his?

Smiling to himself, he deactivated his optical sensors, choosing to listen to the sounds around him. Overhead, some squirrels chattered excitedly while further up, at least 3 different kinds of birds were singing joyfully. Before long, Hound had drifted off into a gentle slumber, oblivious of all around him…

"Hound!"

The sharp yell snapped him awake immediately and he rolled to his knees, drawing a weapon. Fortunately for him, it was only Prowl standing there looking very cross with his hands on his hips. With his door panels drawn back, he made an intimidating figure such that the tracker wouldn't think of beginning his own lecture. Especially now that his taciturn Vice Commander looked ready to deliver his own. Sometimes it just wasn't worth it to argue.

"Hound," Prowl said again, this time with less force. "Surely you are wise enough to know the risks of falling asleep in enemy territory. I might have been Soundwave or Starscream or Megatron even."

"I know," the tracker started contritely as he stood up and subspaced his gun. "I didn't mean to, but since you were so late I thought that…"

"I did not intend to be held up, I assure you, but that is still no excuse for being careless. It was only for a few cycles. I see no reason to take this issue further, but please remember that one error could mean disaster."

"Yes, Prowl." Only a few cycles? Try a few _mega_cycles! Mentally sighing, Hound tucked away his nice chastising speech for another day. Let Prowl believe what he liked, for the sooner this meeting was done with, the sooner he could take the rest of the day off as he had planned.

**Murphy's Law of Warfare: If you really need an officer in a hurry, take a nap.**

**A/N:** I'm sure we've all had something like this happen to us. Getting caught doing something the one and only time you do it. I've been really chugging out Nurture vs. Nature, so hopefully it'll be up by tomorrow night along with the next part of this. For anyone who's waiting for it anyway : )

**Review Time!**

MariaShadow: Yeah, whoops : ) Thanks, I figured they wouldn't be so keen to just sit still for long periods of time. I agree, Cliffjumper is just asking for it.

Tiamat1972: Yup, ever have a moment like that? I know, you'd think he would have learned by now. Apparently he still needs a few lessons. I guess he was so bored, he just didn't care anymore : ) Thanks, I didn't even really notice it when I wrote about the twins balancing each other. But we'll be seeing more of that in my other story. Baby TF's are fun!


	6. The Twins

A/N: This is my last post for now. I hope everyone has a great summer! Wish me luck!

Part Six

"This blows the turbine off Superion's skidplate."

"Wow, Sunny, stop having so much fun. This is a war, y'know."

Sapphire colored optics frosted over nastily as they were cast in his companion's direction. A golden finger pointed to a small break in the foliage. "See that cliff? Do the universe a favor and jump off it."

"Well aren't we just a ray of sunshine this morning," Sideswipe remarked lightly as they made their way further into the forest. A forest, Sunstreaker constantly reminded his brother, that was full of dirt and things that could easily scratch or dent. He was not a happy Lambo by any stretch of the imagination and he vowed to let Prowl know just how not happy he really was. Repeatedly.

However, at the moment, he was unable to take revenge on the mech who had ordered him out here. So that left his dear twin. "Don't talk to me, slagger," he snarled. "You make me want to hurt things."

The red warrior chuckled, unphased by such remarks. They tended to lose their edge after the billionth time they were uttered. "Since when do _you_ need an excuse to be violent?"

"Since Primus saw fit to load me with _you_ for brother. Now shut up, we're getting close."

"Close? Close to what?" Sideswipe stopped, giving a great large red example of a deer in his twin's headlights.

"Close to _what_! Are you slaggin' kidding me!" Sunstreaker railed, swiveling around to stare incredulously.

"Um… no?"

Wrong answer.

"Weren't you paying attention to Prowl's briefing? Do you think I just like to hike in the woods for shits and giggles?"

"Whenever Prowl starts talking my audios just shut down on their own. I think it's a defense mechanism or something."

The scary part was that the red twin didn't lie and nor did he look like he was playing around.

Sunstreaker was stunned into momentary silence, lazuli optics wide and mouth gaped. All was still as each twin just looked at each other. "You," the yellow brother breathed finally, "amaze me."

Looking considerably pleased with himself, the red Lambo preened at the words. "I even amaze myself," he added, ignoring the dry and most unamused expression Sunstreaker sent his way. Apparently his ability to process sarcasm was deactivated along with his audios.

A sudden crashing sound just a few yards away in the forest caused both brothers to freeze instantly. Glancing quickly at the other, they silently moved forward as one, previous argument forgotten. All senses were on alert, ready to detect the slightest movement.

Crouching in the foliage, Sunstreaker and Sideswipe could make out all six of the Constructicons clearing out a large section of the forest. What they intended on building there, the twins didn't know. And neither did they care. Whatever it was, it wasn't going to be something good.

"Ok," Sunstreaker whispered almost inaudibly. "Here's the plan…"

"Woah, woah, back up," his brother argued. "Who died and made _you_ Prime?"

"If you don't pay attention to the brief, you listen to me instead. I'm the only one here with a functioning processor anyway," Sunstreaker retorted imperiously.

The sour look on Sideswipe's face promised that he would show his brother just what he thought of this with a pair of piledrivers. However, for the moment, he had to admit that the arrogant sunspot had a point. He _hadn't_ listened to Prowl when he needed to, so this was his punishment. He could smear his twin plenty when they got back home. And smear him he would.

"Fine then," he scowled, resisting the urge to cross his arms and stomp a foot. "So what's the plan?"

His brother smiled to himself, pleased with the quick acquiescence of his other half. "You run over to that rock as a distraction while I creep up on their back."

"What? I don't think so," Sideswipe shook his head. "I ain't getting pulverized by Devastator just cause you're too chicken to go out there and do it yourself."

"Look, you overgrown bumper car, that's the plan. If you don't like it, just run faster. That's what you're good at anyway," he taunted, knowing Sideswipe would want to prove himself by doing just that.

"I do not run away!"

"Do too!"

"Do not!"

"_Do too_!"

While this argument swiftly dissolved into the universal sibling fight, the Constructicons were beginning to sense something was amiss. It could have been the large splotches of red and yellow thrashing around in the foliage. It may have been the loud childish fighting that was still growing in volume. Perhaps it was the fact that their intruder sensors were going off rather urgently.

Whatever the reason, every Constructicon was now paying close attention to the confusing, albeit amusing scene of two fully grown mechs acting like little fledglings. All good things, however, must come to an end and all six Decepticons knew this well. If they did not eliminate the threat now, those two could stop squabbling and start causing real trouble for them. Trouble that Megatron would not tolerate at all. They had a job to do and couldn't afford to fail now.

"Do… oh fraggit!" Sideswipe ducked just in time as a laser the width of one of Omega's legs came barreling through. The twins were now suddenly faced with a very armed and very functional Devastator charging towards them. Sideswipe, being a bot of instinct, listened to what instinct dictated.

He ran like the great Unmaker was on his aft.

Fortunately for Sunstreaker, the gestalt's attention was on his tubbo brother who was conveniently fleeing in the direction he had previously indicated. Leveling his gun, he took perfect aim at the vulnerable back of Devastator's neck. He had all the time in the world to get the shot in so long as Petunia there stayed a few steps ahead for a while longer. Sunstreaker wasn't exactly in a rush to do a sloppy job so he let the very large Decepticon chase his brother around a while longer to ensure a shot worthy of a sniper.

After all, you must remember, he was a professional.

**Murphy's Law of Warfare: The buddy system is essential to your survival; it gives the enemy somebody else to shoot at.**

**A/N:** Not much to say here. It is currently 1:30 in the a.m. and silly Ti is still packing. I'm glad I don't procrastinate or anything… I will be able to check email once in a blue moon over there and perhaps check in on some reviews, so keep sending me your ideas during my 'radio silence.'

**Reviews!**

MariaShadow: Thanks, I like to write fun little one-liners in case you couldn't tell ; ) That law does ring true, I've had it happen to myself on one or more occasion…. And if you wanna know what happens next in 'NvN' go check it out, it's up now! Thanks for being a great reviewer this past week and I hope you have much inspiration over the summer.

HunterBlues: That's ok, I've done it on more than one occasion : ) Prowl is probably the easiest for me to write now that I think about it. Huh… Actually I have a confession to make but shhh don't tell anyone. I didn't write the orphanage scene originally because I was lazy and wanted to keep these one-shots short. Afterward I figured it was the right thing to do, but yeah, it was laziness on my part. Aw, you're not a Bee fan? That's ok, I'll forgive you ; ) I like Bluestreak too as I've probably said a million times. Such a sweetie imo. I'm glad I wrote him correctly, he's not so easy to figure out. Lol, ok more Jazz and Prowl. Gotcha. I am currently working on one for Prowl and then one for all the officers, so they'll be in my next post. Between you and Chibi-Prowl, I think he's getting all fan-girled out ; ) The next chapter for 'No More Mr. Nice Guy' is titled 'She thinks our Datsun's Sexy' and I think you'll appreciate it. Thanks for all your comments, and sorry bout the novel I'm making you read!

Trueborn Chaos: Glad I made you laugh! Oh ok, sorry bout that, I misunderstood. Don't worry, there's no rush for the list and I won't be able to send mine until I get back. Hope your brother feels better, that's rough. I'll think about using the D-Cons, perhaps I can fit them in somewhere. There's certainly enough laws out there. Thanks for reviewing my stuff this week, you've been great! Keep the good ideas coming!

Tiamat1972: Yeah, poor Hound. At least he got to do some nature appreciating anyway. I sure wouldn't want to babysit those two though : ) lol, now I'm getting fun baby-Lambo mental images…


	7. Mirage

Part Seven

"Good afternoon, cadets," Prowl addressed the assembled group before him. Nobody moved to acknowledge the black and white as they stood at attention in perfect line formation.

Prowl did not pace back and forth in front of the column like most officers, but stood still and tall, letting his strong voice carry his words. "Thus far you have been under the tutelage of Ironhide to gain basic combat skills. For the next section of your basic training, you shall be under my command as I direct you into a series of battle situations. Eventually you will be separated into smaller…"

Try as he might, Mirage could not find it in himself to give the dull newcomer any more of his attention. This was a complete waste of his time. All this had been covered at the Academy where he had gone following the attack of his home.

If he had his way, the young nobleman would be home still, not at this cesspool for every type of mech imaginable. He'd loved his life as a neutral at the upper crust of society. His friends, his glorious spires, the turbo-fox hunts… _that's_ where he belonged. Not here taking orders from a motley group of officers underneath this new mysterious Prime about whom Mirage knew little to nothing.

Beside him, a young red and ebony mech shifted in excitement. His eagerness to be in combat was all but palpable. Mirage resisted the urge to sigh. What was he doing here? Leave the fight to the tall ruffian beside him and his absolutely barbaric brother. They were built for this. He was not. He was an intellectual, not a warrior. Give him a problem to solve, something to read. Anything but playing in the mud with a bunch of assembly line thugs.

He registered absently that they were currently being given a battle situation and should head to the field for further instructions. Many of the other cadets eagerly did so and the young noble had to step gingerly around a few mini-bots to avoid harming them. Shaking his head, he turned around and went in the opposite direction. Whoever designed bots beneath waist height was not functioning with a full processor, that was for sure.

"An' where d'yeh think yo' goin'?" the stern drawl of Ironhide halted his movements. Mirage turned back around to face his superior, remaining silent. At this mad house he learned that whether or not you spoke, you would be yelled at. Would it honestly deactivate anyone to be polite for once?

Ironhide, however, did not appreciate this young upstart ignoring him. "Ah asked yeh a question, cadet," he growled. Prowl swiftly approached, seeing the red mech bristle dangerously.

"Is there a problem?" he asked calmly, putting a white hand on his friend's shoulder. Serene blue optics met Mirage's, asking him as much as the other officer.

"This _cadet_," Ironhide stressed the title as though to remind Mirage of his place, "was jus' goin' t' tell meh why he thought th' field was in th' barracks."

"What's your name?" Prowl asked of the blue and white mech.

"My name is Mirage… Sir," he added the last bit seeing Ironhide's hard stare.

"Mirage," Prowl repeated to himself for memory. Then louder, "where are you from, Mirage?"

"The towers of Iacon," Mirage answered, not particularly wanting to talk about what he'd lost. But perhaps this new officer would understand his plight where Ironhide had fallen short. He certainly looked more intelligent. "I was a neutral there when we were attacked."

Ironhide nodded to his story. "He came with a group o' refugees a coupla months ago. Li'l punk thinks he's royalty even without 'is castle."

"You came through the accelerated program, didn't you?" Prowl continued, ignoring his friend's comments and Mirage's sudden bristling in response.

"That's correct," the young nobleman answered. Finally, someone who understood and who would treat him with the respect he deserved. Prowl would see that he didn't belong here with all these ruffians.

"I am sorry for your loss, and I realize that all this must be very new to you."

This was it. He was going to be allowed to leave. They would offer him another alternative to joining the military.

"But you must understand that we are training everyone to be warriors here. You cannot break formation when you please."

"I was not breaking formation," Mirage cried in indignation. While certainly much more patient than the other officers, it seemed that Prowl was no less apathetic to his situation.

"Yeh were headin' in th' wrong direction, cadet," Ironhide retorted as though to an infant with a malfunctioning processor. How humiliating.

"I did not have my rifle with me and my canister is not filled with adequate energon. One does not enter combat unequipped, am I right, Sir?" Mirage replied haughtily. He knew the rules just like any of the brass. It wasn't his fault he had thought of proper procedure and the other ruffians hadn't.

He was entirely taken off guard when Ironhide threw back his rustic head and laughed. Even Prowl had a look of amusement on his composed face, the hint of a smile on his lips.

"Oh that's rich, kid!" the red bot howled. "Real rich! An' yeh think th' 'Cons are gonna let yeh do all that on th' battlefield?"

"Despite what you have learned during your quick stay at the Academy, real life rarely follows protocol. You are to be ready at a moment's notice, and that is what your instructors were trying to instill in you. You must always be fully equipped, even when you do not expect combat. Just like today," Prowl explained, the smile finally breaking through. Mirage had never been the source of someone's entertainment before and he found he did not like it at all.

"I'll remember that, thank you." Couldn't they just let him be already? He still hadn't gotten his gun yet and he hated to have his time wasted. "Now if you'll excuse me, Sir, I must go and…"

"Th' only place you 'must go' to is to that darned field," Ironhide shook his head, physically steering him away from the barracks. "Gun o' no gun, yo' in a combat situation. Now git!"

Mirage pulled away, curling his lip in extreme annoyance. He hated to be touched by anyone. Even his friends back home he wouldn't come in direct contact with unless he had to. His personal space was very precious to him and the fact that Ironhide had so easily invaded that added insult to injury. "But how am I to fight with no weapon?" he demanded, not even caring to sound polite this time.

"I expect," the newer officer intervened before a fight could break out, "that this will teach you not to leave your weapon behind again. Besides, there are other ways to win a fight that don't involve a gun. Go to the field and fight with the yellow team by the barrels. Your target is to capture the other team's flag."

A silly game ordinarily played by infants? This was his 'military combat training?' Of all the inane…

"Yes, Sir," he sighed in defeat. There was nothing he could do but suffer through it and hope it was all over soon. How glad he was that his friends weren't here to see this.

The yellow team, it turned out, consisted of most of the mini-bots, a silver young thing who looked ready to shake apart, a short green bot who looked like he was having the time of his life, a blue and red bot who seemed lost in his own little world, and some blue fop who wailed at every dent and scratch.

Joy and rapture.

With no weapon and very little desire to wrestle with the much larger brothers who looked much too happy at beating the living manifold out of their opponents, Mirage spent a large amount of time dodging incoming shots. His team wasn't exactly elite by any stretch of the imagination. He knew he had to do something quickly if he didn't want to look like he'd been mugged on the streets.

About 20 cycles into this exercise, he'd found that while the little silver one would often freeze up, when he didn't he was the best shot they had. Therefore, he chose to stick by him, feeling more and more frustrated at his own inability to do anything. He wasn't a bad shot himself, but how was he to prove that if the lousy brass wouldn't let him shoot!

Just to add insult to injury, dear little Bluestreak, Mirage discovered his name to be, while a fantastic shot did not take into account that there was only so much ammo to be had. It appeared that he had not expected to be using his gun that day either. Great. With ammo nearly out, mini-bots dropping like turbo-foxes, and the red and blue knocked out 10 cycles in, there seemed to be no end to their problems. Surely all combat situations weren't so bad, right?

Despite the rather heroic efforts of the little ones, surprisingly good skills of the blue whiner, and the stubbornness of the green one, Mirage found his team suddenly attacked all at once. They wouldn't stand a chance. True, the guns were only loaded with stunners, but the fists, staffs, and knives were all real. And the two brothers at the head of the charge were both very skilled and eager at using all three.

But Mirage saw a weakness in their attack and knew how he might be of service. It was actually the blue and red bot who gave him the idea when he used some strange thick black smoke to blind his enemies. Powerful the other team may be, but when they couldn't see, they were helpless as sparklings.

Why hadn't he thought of it before? After all, it had been what saved his life when the towers fell and nearly everyone killed. The enemy couldn't kill what it couldn't see.

So they thought he was some spoiled prince did they? Well he would show them that this prince could still hold his own. "Good luck, Bluestreak," he said by way of departure. The young mech looked up at him with alarm, thinking that his companion was going to abandon him. Well he was in a way, but hopefully Mirage's plan would work and no one else need be hurt.

Right before the gunner's optics, the young nobleman disappeared as though he was never there. He thought it was a trick of the suns or perhaps his own processor, but sure enough, there were footprints where no body stepped.

Leaving behind the boy, Mirage headed right toward the two ringleaders of the opposing team. Strong brutes though they were, they couldn't outwit him surely. As expected, once he'd quietly pilfered a fallen bot's rifle, they didn't stand a chance. He'd knocked them both out of the game before they could comprehend what was going on. One by one, the enemy tried to fight off this mysterious ghost assassin. And one by one they fell. With a final roundhouse kick to a stocky black warrior, the enemy was defeated and the flag was retrieved.

"Cease fire!" Prowl called out from behind the fence. As everyone remaining was too exhausted to do otherwise, they obeyed as they struggled to circulate enough air into their systems. Once the command came to fall in, it was all the cadets could do to form a half-way decent line formation. Those that were still conscious that was.

Ironhide entered the area first, followed by Prowl and one other bot, probably another officer. Deciding that he'd much rather not get yelled at again for some imaginary transgression, Mirage remained invisible.

Mentally taking attendance, Ironhide's optics narrowed. Meanwhile, Prowl addressed the company. "Would someone explain what just happened?"

The two brutes Mirage had taken out first started babbling about a phantom assailant. Others who had also regained consciousness did the same. Mirage sighed. Imbeciles.

"Oy!" Ironhide interrupted the mass confusion. "Where's the little princling?"

Princling!

"I'm here," he answered sullenly, shimmering into sight at the head of the formation. A number of the bots around him jumped in surprise.

Prowl stepped forward, raising a hand to silence his angrily sputtering colleague. "You are able to become invisible at will?" he asked in the same taciturn manner that it seemed he always spoke. Was he blind? Of _course_ he could become invisible at will!

"Yes," was all he said. Then remembered himself. "Sir."

Nodding, the officer waved over a newer bot with similar markings, and a visor over his optics. He'd come to watch the battle a few cycles after it had begun. Ironhide walked over as well. Together the three bots held a short conference occasionally shooting a glance at Mirage or another cadet.

"Very well," Prowl said when they were finished and his two colleagues had once again wandered off to the side. "When I call your names, you will report in to the officer indicated. More training sessions will be held in the future in order to determine specialties, but we feel some of you belong in different units for the time being."

Mirage, it turned out, was ordered to report to an officer named 'Jazz.' As the only officer present not yet known was the one with the visor, the Iacon mech thought it safe to assume that this was him. He walked over to the officer, passing by all those whose collective afts he kicked, not without an air of victory.

This 'Jazz' person was currently engaged in an enthusiastic pow wow with one of the mini-bots who hadn't been taken down during the supposed war game. A surprise too since there was no missing the bright yellow plating that made up his exterior.

Mirage observed the new black and white as he approached. Well, if anything, this one looked approachable at least.

"M'name's Jazz," the new officer greeted jovially, a broad grin on his face. How old was _this_ one? He knew the war had forced many young mechs into higher positions, but this was a bit ridiculous!

"Mirage," he returned evenly, cautiously. So far he'd struck out with all the other officers and was in no mood to do the same with this one.

"Well, Mirage, looks like you'll be workin' with me and Bumblebee here. He'll be learnin' th' finer points of spy work too." Little Bumblebee gave a large friendly smile, the excitement in him all but palpable.

Wonderful. He was now stuck with a boy-officer and a bubbly yellow mini-bot.

How… cute.

Hopefully this boy officer would acknowledge his skill and move him to a better position. Intelligence work sounded interesting at least. Much more so than regular grunt work. Leave the thug stuff to the thugs. Intelligence required finesse, a certain educated touch that most couldn't come near.

"Alright then," Jazz was saying to him. "Th' whole invisible thing was sweet, especially since no one saw it comin'. But now they know your little trick so you can't use surprise again. In battle, th' 'Cons will figure it out pretty quick too, an' they won't forget either."

Very well, that was fair. And the praise?

"Now the attacks themselves were way too sloppy. You ever even hold a weapon before?"

Oh Primus…

**Murphy's Law of Warfare: For every action there is an equal and opposite criticism… in boot camp.**

**A/N:** This one was taken heavily from my own experiences as an Air Force cadet. It seemed no matter how hard we pushed ourselves or what we did, we were still wrong! Lol, I could have used an invisibility device more than once!

**Review!**

MariaShadow: Gotta love siblings, eh? They're not always each other's best friend, sometimes they just wanna slag each other. Thank you for all the encouragement, I did have much inspiration while I took care of the ankle-biters. I met two people from New Zealand while there as half the staff were foreign. I love you Kiwis, you're so much fun : D Now I say jandals instead of flip-flops!

TruebornChaos: I just received your email. It was brilliant, thank you! I'll be sure to send mine along soon, though it won't be as long unfortunately. The little comic was great too! Oh brothers… what can you do with them? Thanks, I'm glad you enjoyed it.

Flyby Stardancer: lol of course he is, he's Sunny! But it is true no matter how much they deny it. Gotta love the boys!

PuraJazzBot: lol, I'll just answer all your reviews at once. It's good to hear from you again! 1: Oh definitely! Just don't call him a softie to his face, he'd go all MV on you! 3: He's such a sweetie I can't help but love him : ) There's not enough Blue stories out there, we need some more! 4: But that really was a big screw up, even for the fearless leaders. I assume he'd have to write things down in a hurry so I doubt his handwriting is exactly calligraphy. 5: I think he'd actually try coming across as Prowl with a whole 'we don't have time to fool around. The enemy could be moving from their positions…' Something like that. I doubt he'd get very far anyway. YOU try lecturing Prowl. 6: Oh the smiles we get from their misfortunes…

HunterBlues: The Constructicons aren't stupid after all and the twins weren't exactly little stealth-masters : D And yes, they're always great whether they're being good or bad. Lol, point taken. I saw a great picture once, I can't remember who drew it, of Prowl being paranoid at all his, er, feminine following with Jazz wondering just what there was to complain about. The next chapter will hopefully be up before I leave on Thursday, I didn't get it finished over the summer though I did make a good dent in it. Oh, and thank you for the review on 'Healing Hands!' I really appreciate it. I don't even know what it is that bugs me either. Lol, oh well! It's all good!

Tiamat1972: lol I'm glad you enjoyed it! 'What a pair' is right! Poor Pinch won't know what hit him by the time they're done with him. And Prowl seems to enjoy it so much too… I figured Sides would do what we all do when we get one too many lectures and just zone out. Well Sunny wants to make sure he does his job properly of course ; ) LMAO, I love that quote, it's so true to them!

SapphireStars: Thank you, I'm glad you enjoy it. And you're a fan of X-Men: Evo and Inuyasha? You are automatically one of the coolest people ever!

AngelMouse5: Thank you, and welcome to the show if this is your first visit : ) Gotta love the Bee, that's a given!

Blazer-6: Hm, Blaster's cassettes? That would be fun. However, I don't know very much about them. If you could give me the info I'd be sure to get on it right away!

Turbomagnus: I aim to please : D


	8. The Brass

Part Eight

"Absolutely not!" insisted Red Alert, practically foaming at the mouth. "If you allow this, there's no telling what could happen!"

"Red," Ironhide said calmly, trying his very best not to reach out and throttle his security director. "It's only for a week. Two tops."

"With all due respect, Sir, I have long suspected those two of working both sides. How often do they disappear for days on end without telling anyone?"

"They're _scouts_," Ironhide clenched his jaw in frustration. "It's their function t' go off wanderin'. Trus' meh, Red, th' day Hound 'n Trailbreaker join th' 'Cons is th' day ol' Ratchet goes off th' deep end."

Red Alert gave him a look.

"Alrigh'," he sighed in acquiescence. "Bad example. It ain' like we got a lot o' choice in th' matter. They're th' only ones free all week t' take night sentry duty while Smokescreen 'n Tracks are in th' medbay."

"I am sorry, Sir, but I must insist someone else do it."

"Then who would _you_ recommend?" Ironhide tried. His deputy looked up at him in complete confusion.

"I haven't any idea. I was not given a list of the soldiers' schedules. Only officers are given that. But surely there is someone else."

Ironhide looked at the ceiling for a moment as though it held the answers. Red Alert waited patiently for a solution. "Y'know what, Red? You're jus' gonna hafta deal with it. There ain' nobody else."

Ignoring his sputtering security director, the red mech turned and left, feeling a headache coming on. By Primus he hated Monday mornings. Monday mornings meant briefings, and debriefings, and new schedules, and confusion. Give him a 'Con and a gun any day. Leave the administrating to Prowl who was sick enough to like that sort of thing.

Grabbing a quick mug of energon before he returned to his office, he stole a glance at the only other 'bot present, Jazz, who was seated at a table. Mug half-drained and forehead on the table, the special ops officer didn't seem to be having the best of Monday mornings either. The poor young thing looked too tired to even pretend to be cheerful and energetic.

"Had a li'l too much fun las' night?" he greeted the black and white as he sat down next to him.

Jazz had the good graces to tilt his head to the side, though no light came from behind the visor indicating that he did not want to activate his optics just yet. "That's the last time I try to out drink Prowl, man. I don't know where all that energon goes, but it ain't in his energy converter, that's for sure." His head tilted back to its original position.

Ironhide chuckled heartily. "Son, yeh shouldn' have even tried. There ain' a mech alive that'll hold his energon better'n Prowl. Bet yeh didn' even see him tipsy." Somehow the thought of someone having a worse day than he served to cheer him up considerably.

"Not even buzzed," Jazz affirmed. "An' I'm no lightweight."

The elder mech chortled again at the mental images this was giving him. The only reaction the very hungover saboteur made was to wrap his limp arms around his head as though to ease his headache.

Merrily bouncing in, Sideswipe flipped the lightswitch, illuminating the room with the two officers. "Morning!" he chirped, his more subdued brother stumbling in after him blearily.

Jazz whimpered pathetically, wrapping his arms tighter.

"What was that?" the elder officer asked as he bent down to listen.

Mumbling something about murdering the Lambo, the black and white ended by mewling, "…the light's too loud."

Laughing once more, but quieter out of consideration, the security officer downed the rest of his energon and fled the scene. The officer's lounge should really get an energon dispenser installed. If he weren't afraid of half the Ark getting blown sky high, he'd ask Wheeljack to work on it.

Had poor Jazz the willpower, he'd have called Ironhide a traitor for leaving him at the mercy of the morning shift 'bots, none of whom knew the meaning of the word 'quiet.' As it was, all he could do was try to pull himself together to face the rest of the day in top form.

Jazz fought down the nausea that came when he reactivated his optics. Alright, mere functioning form would have to do. The only reason Prowl had agreed to the contest was because his colleague had sworn it wouldn't affect his performance the next day. That and the fact that the younger officer now owed his friend 30 credits and Lambo-sitting for the next two weeks.

Standing upright, squaring his shoulders, and even forcing a blissful smile on his face, Jazz dumped the remainder of his drink and left to face the world.

'The world' for the time being consisted of a briefing with his subordinates and the Protectobots, paperwork, and his monthly tune-up with Ratchet. He winced slightly at the thought of that last task before he went off-duty for a few hours starting at noon. If he wasn't over his hangover by the time 1100 hours rolled around and he entered that med-bay, ol' Doc Ratchet would surely beat it out of him. He was such a kind, gentle soul to his dear patients…

Ten minutes into his brief, Jazz lost all hopes of losing that hangover in time. Ah well… he hadn't gotten the manifold kicked out of him in such a long while it may help to break the monotony.

"Jazz?" Hotspot ventured hesitantly seeing his superior stumble over the mission he was trying to get across to those present. "Boston is not located in Oregon."

"Huh?" the hungover bot asked, still trying to hide his embarrassing affliction from the others. He finally realized that for the last 5 minutes, he had been trying to explain a stakeout outside of Fenway Park when the map he had on the overhead clearly outlined the city of Portland.

"Are you ok, Jazz?" Bumblebee asked. Leave it to the other espionage bots under him to notice their happy-go-lucky Porche wasn't quite himself today.

"If you will excuse the phrase," Mirage added delicately. "You look like warmed-over slag."

Before Jazz could defend himself, weak though it would be, First Aid cocked his head to the side. "Perhaps you should lay down for a few megacycles. I could give you a once-over, or I could get Ratchet…"

Oh good, let's bring in Ratchet to end his misery.

"We haven't finished our briefing yet," Mirage shook his head. "I'm afraid we should continue."

"Slag that, let the poor guy rest," Bumblebee argued.

"If those above us aren't able to do their job, how are we supposed to?" the larger spy shot back, growing annoyed at the little cheeky mini-bot.

"Hey, c'mon," Groove said gently. "Just chill out, he's not feeling good."

"Mirage is right," Blades interrupted his brother. "We're expected to be here fully functional, so…"

Jazz sighed as he struggled to keep up with the growing fight over his well-being. Finally giving up, he tossed the datapads and projector-clicker to the table and stumbled out the door. To Ratchet it was.

The good doctor, as expected, was ready to beat the living tar out of him.

When he was done chewing out the poor hungover bot, Ratchet stalked back to his office to try to get some more work done. Well he'd offered Jazz a mild sedative to sleep it off, so he'd slagging well done his job. No need to get all sympathetic because some punk was stupid enough to challenge Prowl to a drinking contest. Even Ratchet, who could hold his energon like a tanker, wouldn't do it. He was smarter than that.

Not half-way through an inventory report and Ratchet already heard the cheerful pitter-patter of two pairs of feet. Two large pairs of feet. Most likely with Lamborghinis attached to them. He'd expect nothing less from karma on a Monday morning.

Entering, as expected, were Sideswipe and Sunstreaker and whatever hair-brained scheme they had this time. "No," he said before either even said a word. "Whatever it is, no."

Sideswipe pouted while his other half gave a look that seemed to say 'I told you so.' "But Ratchet, you haven't even…"

"The answer is no." He signed another release form absently.

"Are you sure?" His optics suddenly shined with the innocence of youth as though to change his mind.

Looking up with mild annoyance, Ratchet frowned at the two Lamborghinis. "I already told you 'no.' Now scram."

Unperturbed, the large bundle of mischief shrugged. "Ok, you're the boss."

"Damn straight I'm the boss. Beat it."

"Thanks! You're the best!" the warrior grinned as he pranced to the supplies box, taking out many different… things, and making a mess of the rest. And the CMO had just finished carefully putting everything in order too. Oh, that demon-spawn was in for it! Before he could even give out a good curse, the yellow one started in on the tools on the counter. Tools just recently cleaned and sharpened. With less prancing involved of course; he was the pinnacle of dignity and self-respect.

"What the slag are you doing?" Ratchet wailed, leaping to his feet faster than either twin thought possible.

Sideswipe paused from his supplies raid, a large joint ring hanging off one of his 'horns' and an armful of spare parts and tools. "But you said 'no.' Didn't he, Sunny?"

"That's what I heard," his brother nodded as he subspaced a rather expensive arc welder. He lifted a large vibro-blade and eyed it appreciatively.

Taking a deep breath to calm his frazzled circuits, Ratchet clenched and unclenched his fists, imagining two pairs of Lambo-necks in them. "And _what _exactly," he growled in a dangerous undertone, "was the question?"

"We were just wondering if you minded us borrowing a few of your tools," Sideswipe answered casually, not pausing from his closet-raid. "And you said no, so…"

The CMO sprang at the red hellion, intent on ridding the universe of one more useless waste of space. Unfortunately for him, Sideswipe was well used to being attacked violently, by both friend and foe alike, and he jumped out of the way easily.

"You're the best, Ratch!" Sides grinned as he made his hasty exit, grabbing his brother by the arm as he did so. The loud gleeful yells and clangs of metal on metal momentarily woke the slowly recovering Jazz who moaned pitifully at the noise they made before drifting off once more.

With wide disbelieving optics, Ratchet watched them go, his CPU trying to process just what in the Matrix was going on. After a cycle or so he came to the realization that yes indeed those two children of the Unmaker had blatantly ignored him, made a slag-hole of his med-bay, and then proceeded to run out with his best tools.

Oh, that was it!

"Prowl!" he hollered as he stomped toward the exit. "Prowl, I need a word with you!"

In his apoplectic wake, one sick special ops officer managed to whimper even as he curled into a tight ball.

OoOoOo

He gave an uncharacteristic groan as the footsteps got louder. Oh no, not another one.

"Prowl!" Ratchet burst into his office, not even bothering to request permission first.

Looking up from his schematic, the Vice Commander took a deep soothing breath in preparation for whatever the CMO had to say. All day he hadn't had a cycle of peace as Autobot after Autobot came to him for one thing or another.

For Primus' sake, he was their Second, not their Creators. He was a very busy mech and had no time to spend playing nanny-bot to the whole base. But should one try to get rid of Ratchet using this excuse, one would most certainly spend the rest of their existence drinking energon through an I.V.

"You bellowed?" he asked instead.

"Damn straight I bellowed! Do you know what those two slag-suckers just did?" the medic further bellowed in a rage.

"By 'those two slag-suckers' I feel it is safe to assume you are talking about Sideswipe and Sunstreaker. And I imagine they must have done something special for you to be this upset."

"You don't punish them enough! They have no discipline! I'm slagging sick of putting up with their crap, Prowl! Do something!"

Prowl gave him a level stare not even the medic could match. "And what do you propose I do? If I punish them any more, we'd have to release our poor maintenance staff from employment. I discipline each transgression as they deserve. You must remember, Ratchet, that they are not my only responsibility. It is my function to keep order, both at the base and on the field. Not only that, but I am the Autobot Vice Commander with all the duties the position entails. Therefore, you must understand that two brothers who find it amusing to place singing fish wall hangings around every corner are hardly my number one priority."

"That isn't fair, Prowl!" Ratchet failed to empathize with Prowl's position.

The tactician watched, mildly amused, and halfway expected the medic to stomp a foot.

Yes this was Ratchet. And yes one must be careful of what one said to Ratchet. But at the moment, Prowl could give a frag what the CMO wanted or didn't want.

"Tough."

Ratchet paused, feeling that strange sense of disbelief once more at having someone completely dismiss him. "What was that?" he asked in a dangerously quiet tone, deciding that he definitely did _not_ want to be so cast aside like some whiny grunt.

Once again, Prowl really didn't care what Ratchet wanted.

"I'm sorry, Ratchet, but you know I am not able, nor willing, to punish the twins just because they frustrate you.

"They stole my slagging equipment without permission!" Now the medic did stomp his foot.

"Then I will investigate the matter, and should I find them guilty, punish them for theft." The black and white paused. He knew how their pair, especially Sideswipe, worked. "Are you positive it was without permission? There is no loophole they might use to their defense?"

Thus ensued a few cycles of indecipherable sputterings and half-explanations and a few curses thrown in for effect. From what Prowl could discern, it turned out that the two bundles of joy could very well claim innocence. After all, Ratchet did say 'no' to their question without even bothering to hear what it was. And besides, the medic should have known better in the first place.

"The point is, Prowl," Ratchet said when he could offer no more defense, "that they are determined to make my life a living Inferno. Do something about it or I will!"

On that pleasant note, the CMO stormed out of his Vice's office.

Resisting the strong temptation to rap his head firmly and repeatedly against his desk, Prowl finished up a report and prepared for his upcoming meeting with his Commander. He had his own couple of bones to pick.

OoOoOo

Prime collapsed into his chair the moment he entered his quarters. In response, the abused piece of furniture gave an irritated creak. Oh Matrix what a day! As if leading a war wasn't hard enough, but now he had his own troops to contend with as well.

Between personnel problems with Ironhide, a severe lack of special ops due to intoxication, a medic on a murdering rampage, and a 2IC ready to snap any cycle, it was all he could do to not hang up his battlemask and go home. He wasn't commanding an army, he was running a madhouse! They were nuts, down to the very last servo!

Ah well, it was just another average day in the Ark. It wouldn't be HQ if it wasn't like that. Or as interesting either. If he had to be a part of this mad assembly, then by Primus, he would be the Head Loon!

And besides, the one good thing about being the Commander of such a motley crew was that they could whine all they wanted, but he could still do as he pleased in the end.

After all, it wasn't as though they were offering any solutions.

**Murphy's Law of Warfare: The tough part about being an officer is that the troops don't know what they want, but they know for certain what they don't want.**

**A/N: **Originally this was supposed to be only about Ironhide, but I ran across two issues with that. One: I couldn't seem to make it last very long at all. And two: he isn't the only officer I could poke fun at.

**Reviews!**

AngelMouse5: Thank you, I always found him so interesting because of his past and how it always came in conflict with his current life. Lol, now you've planted a little bunny, perhaps if I have time, I can write something with the three of them in their early training sessions or something.

DesertCat87: Thanks, it's good to know I did him right. I have such a soft spot for the poor spy, I imagine basic training for him had to be less than pleasant due to his past. Lol, well I think that Jazz definitely would have come across younger than he was, especially back in the early days. Love the Bee, oh how I still love the Bee… ; )

Seekerfemmedraca: Yay, I'm glad you like them! The idea just came to me one day while I was reading some Murphy's Laws and I felt obligated as a person to write it down. Any requests?


	9. Cliffjumper

Part Nine

"Cliffjumper, get the slag down!" Ratchet barked, looking up from where he was busy patching a downed Slingshot. "You're supposed to be protecting me, not giving me more work to do." Primus, how did he end up with that little troublemaker as his guard?

The mini-bot looked back at the medic and snorted distastefully. "Hey, do I tell you how to operate? I know what I'm doing."

"I swear to Primus that if you make me come over there to save your midget ass, I will rebuild you into a scooter. Now turn around and give me slagging cover fire!" The look in Ratchet's face promised that it was no idle threat.

Scowling right back, Cliffjumper nonetheless did as he was told, hiding further behind a boulder so he wouldn't be hit. "Damn medic," he muttered. What did Ratchet know about it anyway? He was a medic, not a warrior. Leave the warrior stuff to the actual warriors.

"Primus-freaking fraggit!" Ratchet cursed as he leaned over the ailing Aerialbot to protect his innards from flying dust. "This is why I slagging hate the Primus-damned slagging _field_!" Working as a young field medic as how he'd begun his messy carreer, and as he ducked to avoid a stray shot, he was sure it was where his career would come to a messy end. He hated working under these conditions and it showed quite clearly just how stressed he was.

For his part, the lone mini-bot in charge of protecting the CMO was doing his best. So far, none of the Decepticons had really bothered to approach their ditch, much more concerned with the other Autobots. The few who did come by to see what Cliffjumper was protecting quickly left again.

Apparently they couldn't handle going against a real warrior like himself.

"Damn cowards," he muttered to himself as he watched Thundercracker dive-bomb Hotspot and his team rather than him. "You hear that?" he called louder. "You're a damn coward!"

The blue jet let loose a few half-hearted missiles in Cliffjumper's direction, each with the power to blow a vulnerable mini-bot into his next existence. Fortunately for this vulnerable mini-bot, all of these such missiles were intercepted by Bluestreak who had seen the exchange moments before. He shot the mini-bot a look before returning to battle.

Now Cliffjumper understood dear little Bluestreak's desire to appear useful, but honestly…

For a long while, no Decepticons ventured near. Yet Cliffjumper remained the watchful guard just in case. Mini-bots could be just as lethal, if not more-so, than their larger counterparts, and he wished to prove just that. Not that it would be difficult anyway seeing as even the Seekers were too nervous to challenge him.

He snorted at the twins who were currently giving Soundwave hell. He was just as tough as they were, just as brave. Brute strength wasn't everything. After all, he didn't have to gang up on someone to win a fight. He'd taken on one or both of the twins numerous times before and he'd always come out on top. Useless big-headed slaggers…

Out of the corner of his optics, he spotted a Decepticon at last drifting near. Onslaught approached even as he stared at the field in concentration, radioing his Combaticons for instructions. He didn't even know the mini-bot was there until he was nearly upon him. When he finally noticed Cliffjumper just before him, gun aimed right at his chest, the great Decepticon paused. For a moment neither moved, each contemplating the other. Silently testing their opponent for weaknesses.

Then the red mini-bot's finger twitched to rest at the trigger.

Apparantly deciding against taking on Cliffjumper, the Combaticon Commander walked on. Cliffjumper watched the retreat and scoffed. He hated shooting a bot in the back, even if it was a stinking 'Con. And he'd hoped that the large Decepticon wasn't as cowardly as the rest too. Surely Prowl overestimated Onslaught's ability if he wouldn't even take him on!

"You damn coward!" he hollered, waving his gun angrily. "Turn around and fight me! I could beat you with no arms and optics!"

Whipping around at the insult, Onslaught fired a few rounds at him before moving on once more. Still retreating, the yellow belly!

"Hah! You missed!" the red warrior jeered. "You missed, you slagger!" The Combaticon ignored him this time.

"Ahem," a soft, dangerous voice interrupted his victory cheer. Turning around, Cliffjumper was suddenly faced with all 3 ½ tons of pissed-off Ratchet. His left shoulder was singed and still smoking form where one of Onslaught's bolts grazed him.

Uh oh.

"What are you supposed to be doing?" Ratchet asked quietly as though to a very slow fledgling. Cliffjumper could barely hear him over the sounds of the nearby battle.

Was this a trick question?

"…Protecting you?" Cliffjumper answered as though a very slow fledgling.

"Very good," the medic nodded. "And was Onslaught attacking me?"

"…No?"

"Good, good. So then why the _slag_ didn't you just fragging leave him the _hell_ alone!" Now he roared, making the smaller bot feel every inch of their considerable height difference.

Cliffjumper went very still, much like a hunted turbo-fox waiting for the danger to pass.

"Now you take your slagging gun," Ratchet advanced further, picking up the red mini-bot and dropping him to where he wanted him. "Stay behind that slagging rock, and don't _move_ unless someone is slagging attacking me. Got that, pipsqueak?"

"Er, yes, Sir," Cliffjumper answered in the hopes that if he agreed with whatever the CMO barked out, he may not wake up tomorrow with a body part missing or tampered with.

Satisfied that he'd properly scared 1000 years off the little shit's life, Ratchet returned to the weakly moaning Slingshot.

Now that the CMO from the Pit was out of his personal bubble, Cliffjumper felt his spark dislodge from his optical sensors and beginning to return to its normal pace. Well sheesh, he was only trying to help. It wasn't as though Onslaught didn't pose a threat, coward though he was. Cliffjumper could have just saved someone's aft and Ratchet another half a day of surgery.

But did the cranky medic give a flying frag?

Yeah, he thought not.

He grumped about for a while, keeping an eye out for any danger. It would serve the crotchety old medic right if some 'Con showed up and dented his skidplate.

"Like any of you are brave enough to do it," he pouted, glaring at the Seekers. "You'll attack a medic when he's unprotected, but you run and hide when it's me protecting him."

Fragging cowards. They'd much rather tangle with the silly little twins than face his wrath.

Then he saw Skydive go spiraling down for a hard landing.

"You slagging 'Cons!" he cursed, jumping on top of the boulder he was supposed to be hiding behind. Now was not the time to hide when his comrades were in danger. Oh he was steamed now! "Come and face me, you yellow bellies! He's just a kid you slaggers!"

Starscream, Thundercracker, and Skywarp turned to stare at him, identical puzzled expressions on their faces. Was a mini-bot actually taunting them? A mini-bot all by himself? With no protection?

"Yeah you heard me!" the red bot shrieked, jumping up and down in a tantrum. "I bet you can't take me, you stinkin' 'Cons!"

The Air Commander shrugged and glanced at his two wingmates. As one, the three flew over to take on the little bot with the big mouth. Their movements were slow and lazy; honestly if they weren't so bored they may not have even bothered.

Waiting with anticipation, Cliffjumper stood in a wide stance, gun in each hand like a modern-day robotic Rambo.

Closer and closer the Seekers loomed, nearly within striking range.

He saw them power up their weapons, ready to offer him a real challenge.

Cliffjumper raised his own considerable arsenal, ready to unleash Hell.

Just as the jets entered range, gunfire opened from around the mini-bot. Swiveling around in surprise, Cliffjumper saw Ratchet and a barely functioning Slingshot firing all they had at the enemy. In the medic's case, it wasn't much, but it certainly helped. The jets fired back with much enthusiasm, and it was only through the combined efforts of the three mechs, plus a few other nearby bots, to drive the Decepticon Vice and his Seekers away.

The retreating jets signaled the beginning of the end as one by one the Decepticons fled to their underwater home for rest and repairs.

"Y'know, Ratchet," Cliffjumper offered once the battle was over, "I had it perfectly under control. I know you wanted to help and I appreciate it, but…"

He was unable to finish his rather gracious speech, for the CMO had firmly wrapped his large hands around the mini-bot's neck, squeezed tightly, and shook.

Hard.

"Primus frigging fragging little tin can opener!" Ratchet ground out, jaw clenched painfully as he shook his 'protector' with all his considerable might. "I'll slagging show you fragging under control. I'm gonna rip you apart and rebuild you as a dishwasher you sorry excuse for a slagging…"

**Murphy's Law of Warfare: Don't be conspicuous, it attracts fire. Don't attract fire, it irritates everyone around you.**

**A/N**: Oh Cliffjumper… how much fun it was to get inside that little head of his!

**Review Time!**

DesertCat87: lol, I'm glad I made your day: D Having Jazz hungover was a bit of an experiment just to see if I could do it and be funny. And yeah, Ratchet is always freaking out over something, but it doesn't make it any less fun. I just realized that I have read all your stories but I have yet to review. So sorry about that! I'll get right to it! Just wanted you to know that I love them and can't wait for more from you.

That Crazy Halo Girl: Hey, who doesn't like to pick on the higher ups, right? ; P I think Jazz's part was my favorite part to write actually. Poor guy, we love to pick on him. Thank you so much, I always love to hear what you think!

AngelMouse5: Little? Lol, I think it was my longest Murphy's Law so far. Thank you, I'm glad you liked it. And yeah, thanks for the plot bunny too. Let's see what I can do with it. Hahaha, I guess everyone likes seeing poor Jazz in misery, eh? I wonder what the twins were up to anyway…

PuraJazzBot: A little smack would probably do Mirage some good, you're right. Thank you, I've been working hard on the flow of my stories lately. Nice to know it's starting to pay off.

Seekerfemmedraca: You know… you're right. I wasn't even thinking of McMurphy when I wrote that line, but now I remember! Wow, I loved 'One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest.' Lol, now all I can think of is Prime acting like a mental patient… wow, no more dumplings for me. I searched long and hard for a Law for Windcharger and… I think you'll be pleased with my choice. I agree, we need more Windcharger stories. And Mirage. And Blue…

Trueborn Chaos: Mirage has had it rough, I can see why he might not be so eager to run into the war when it nearly killed him already. Ugh, Mondays… lol, thanks!

Blazer-6: Ah, thanks, that's a big help! I found a good one for them, so I'll get to work on it.

Tripleguess: Heya! Thanks for you reviews, I'm glad you like my little one-shots. I do try to keep everyone in character since it's a pet peeve of mine when they aren't. Anything I should work on? Anything you would like to see more of?

Jess: Thank you, I worked extra hard on that one : ) I'm glad you liked it!

HunterBlues: Oh I'm sure Jazz has been in that position plenty of times. Besides, I doubt he would want another trip to Ratchet's. Aw, but I do so love Mirage! Lol, yeah, double-poor Prowl. I don't think he'd know what to do with himself if he went on vacation.

MariaShadow: lol, thanks! I found the best way to get into Mirage's head was to have a full day of being annoyed by siblings and generally having a lousy time. He seems like a rather short-fused guy when it comes to having his time wasted. It's glad to be back! I apologize for not reviewing 'What If.' It's absolutely brilliant, I'm so happy you continued with it. They make great big bros : ) What a coincidence, I have been waiting avidly for any updates from you. Lol, yes yes, that's what Rosalie said when I finally caved and just called them jandals. She and the other New Zealander lived on the North Island. I just realized that now we are only a few hours apart as far as time diff goes rather than about 12. Fancy that! Oh Prowl… he'll never get a break, will he? I can imagine all the inane things he has to deal with as well as the serious stuff. Does he ever sleep!


	10. Blaster

Part Ten

"Are you _sure_ you know what you're doing?"

"Would you just chill, Bee? Trust the Blast-man, he's got it under control."

Mirage eyed the low rocky ceiling warily. He hated being closed into tight spaces, and this little cave they'd found certainly qualified. Being closed in felt too much like Iacon and how he'd been trapped, invisible, waiting for rescue. The spy shivered despite himself and forced himself to focus on the others rather than himself. He could see it bothered many to be so confined, and his wasn't the worst of the claustrophobia.

The Autobots had been forced into an early retreat, hence the little rocky hideout, and were attempting to reorganize. Prowl, being Prowl, refused to deploy any forces until he knew the exact coordinates of their enemies. Since it was a reasonable request in the mind of Optimus, Blaster had been recruited to tap into the Decepticons' communication lines to try and trace their location.

A task easier said than done.

His counterpart, good old Soundwave, was a sly one and tracing his transmissions would be tricky. Not to mention he didn't have the proper equipment to do a real trace. He'd have to listen in on the conversation and determine things from there. Well, he wasn't the head of communications for nothing, and it wouldn't be long before he got a definite lock. After that it was just a matter of time.

Jumbled static finally came through his receptors as he found the Decepticons' communication frequencies. Oh, Soundwave, you silly thing… Blaster had caught him using that same one three times already. Was that a favorite of his or something? As he fine-tuned the reception and adjusted his own line, the static gave rise to actual voices, clear and strong.

He had it!

"And… here we go," he announced to the group of Autobots around him. Prowl perked up from where he had been contemplating the rocky wall absently and walked to Blaster's side.

"Where are they?" the tactician asked quietly, allowing the red mech to concentrate.

The red bot held up a finger for everyone chatting excitedly to quiet down as he listened. A few cycles passed in absolute silence. Everyone waiting for the uneasy tension to be done with. There were very few of them who held any love for tight dark places. When Blaster finally smiled with understanding, there was a collective sigh of relief.

"Get me a map," he requested suddenly.

Sideswipe procured one first, and while he received a few odd looks, no one questioned it. Blaster took it with an absent nod of thanks and a serious look on his normally jovial face. He was lost in his own world now, doing what he was hired to do. Prowl immediately handed him some small pebbles so the communications chief could lay them at the Decepticons' positions.

One by one the rocks went down as he mumbled, "Seekers, Stunticons, cassettes, Constructicons, Megatron…" and so on until all were accounted for.

Prowl studied the assortment for a moment. Decepticons on three sides. That would be difficult to counter, but not impossible. Calling Smokescreen and Jazz over, he began to come up with a plan. As the tactician was doing this, Blaster continued to listen and rearrange the blocks as needed. So far all the Decepticons seemed to be doing was searching for their hidden enemy.

The formation didn't get too worrying until, in a wild move, Starscream and his five jets flew directly over their position to an area in the West. The Autobots could even hear the muffled roar of the engines as they passed over the mountain. Whether the 'Cons knew it or not, they had the Autobots surrounded.

Slag.

"What now?" someone asked nervously in the crowd.

"We wait," Prime responded in a strong clear voice, looking away from his conversing officers to address the anxious group. "It is likely that they are unaware of our position. If we wait, they may move on."

"What if they don't?" another bot asked.

"We will engage the enemy where we find them," was the Commander's immediate response. "Leave the details to the officers and myself."

Trusting their leader as he rarely led them wrong, the Autobots relaxed for the moment. All optics were on Blaster's map, each watching as the different stones moved this way and that.

The communications chief frowned for a moment as the connection was cut briefly, then coming in only as static. "I lost it," he told Prowl as he worked to regain the trace. "There must be a magnetic field around here. Hold on a minute…"

Hold on they did for nearly 10 cycle. Nervous mutterings filled the little cave before Blaster got the connection back. Every cycle without information was a cycle closer the Decepticons could be getting. As he listened anew to the reconnected trace, Blaster gave a small smile. It didn't seem as though the Decepticons were any wiser to their position, but it would take another few cycles to know for sure.

Prowl paid close attention to each stone as they were being arranged throughout the map. While the Autobots were still surrounded, the way the enemy was setting up, it appeared entirely unintentional. This still left him in a tight spot either way. Whether or not the Decepticons knew their enemy was completely closed in, the Autobots were nonetheless in a very compromised position. Their current secrecy only brought him another hour at best to come up with a counter-attack. He doubted he had half that long and his processor went into overdrive so he might come up with something half-decent.

Blaster, meanwhile, struggled to make sense of what he was hearing. Every time there was a transmission with a Decepticon giving Megatron or Starscream their coordinates, it seemed that very little actually changed. They weren't sweeping out to search other areas. Nor did they close in on the middle where their hidden quarry lay.

"Blaster," his Vice suddenly spoke up.

He held up a hand to quiet the Datsun. Couldn't he see he was trying to work?

"Blaster," Prowl repeated louder.

"Wait a cycle, man!" Blaster listened as a new transmission came in loud and clear.

"Attention, Blaster, this is Megatron."

"It's a trap!" Prowl exclaimed, finally recognizing the seemingly random pattern on the map for what it was.

"Run. Megatron out."

The line went dead just as the sound of six jets came in overhead. The cavern rumbled from their proximity, small rocks actually falling to the ground or striking the bewildered Autobots.

"The slag…?" the comms. chief asked out loud, starting up at the ceiling. "But they were supposed to be…"

"They were false transmissions," Prowl explained quickly. "Designed to keep us in one place while they discovered our location."

Optimus Prime nodded to his 2IC in agreement. "Autobots, evacuate the cavern!"

In a wave, everyone headed for the exit, wanting to be far far away from this trap when it was sprung.

Unfortunately for them, they had a welcoming party waiting for them outside.

Blaster skidded to a stop alongside Hound and Perceptor. All the while he struggled to determine just _how_ he'd been figured out. Unless the Decepticons already knew which line he'd been using…

He caught Soundwave's gaze and let out an ironic smile. A smile he was pretty sure the Decepticon returned.

To the rest of the squadron, to the stiff brass, even to the most light-hearted of them all, there were distinct lines in the war between game and serious. But Blaster never made that distinction if he could help it and he figured Soundwave rarely did either. To them it was always a game. A game to see who could outwit who. Who could keep ahead of the other.

And Soundwave, you sly old dog…

He'd known all along Blaster would expect him to slip up by using the same line as always. The bogus coordinates would keep the Autobot on the line long enough to trace him. No doubt Soundwave had had the proper equipment too unlike Blaster.

The red mech stepped back as chaos ensued, releasing his cassettes one by one. No matter which side walked from here victorious, both he and his counterpart knew just who had triumphed this day.

Game.

Set.

Match.

**Murphy's Law of Warfare: Tracing works both ways.**

**A/N: **And here rounds out the first ten of my Murphy's Laws. I know it must end at some point, but just not yet. This one was fun to do purely because I've never actually written for Blaster before.

**Review Time!**

AngelMouse5: Thanks: ) I agree, sometimes Cliffjumper just needs to tone it down before he's killed… by whichever side has to deal with him.

TruebornChaos: lol, he's a pain in the neck, but I guess everyone needs a Cliffjumper in their life. You can't blame the little guy for trying at least. Oh yeah… Dumb, Ti! Of course I can find their info there. Thanks!

PuraJazzBot: They'd kill each other within 5 minutes! That would be funny to see, actually. Perhaps you should give it a try? ; )

Seekerfemmedraca: lmao I agree! He better watch his back. Yeah, Raj and Blue need more screentime. We'll be seeing a lot of them in 'Our Revels' so that's my little contribution.

Blazer-6: Punch… you're right he would be fun to do. I have a few thoughts lined up for him, but I'm not sure which one I should do. What do you think? More serious or funny? With him, it's easy to do both. Have you read anything by Starhorse? You can find all her work at lambotricks . com She's a very skilled person with her stories and art, and a great person to know as well. Happy reading! She helped start this lambo craze : )

DesertCat87: Y'know, I'm not either. But he was fun to write. But I think he chose the wrong bot to tick off. Of course I do : ) Keep the good stuff coming!

Uftaki: We can hope, but I don't think it did much good : )

Mariashadow: It's a good thing he's so small too or he'd always be getting into trouble. Thanks! Glad I made you smile.

That Crazy Halo Girl: I agree. Cliffjumper would do a lot less harm that way, neh? Poor Cliffjumper? I'd say 'poor everyone else who has to deal with the little slagger.'


	11. Smokescreen

Part Eleven

"Move it, lead butt!"

"Back off, pig slagger!"

"Your aft is in my face, Sunshine."

"Your face is in my aft, Petunia."

"Would you both shut up? You're giving me a fragging…"

"All of you, quiet!" Smokescreen hissed swiveling around to glare at the belligerent twins and Gears. Looking simply miserable back at him, Bumblebee and Bluestreak silently begged their team leader to spare them from the disgruntled trio.

He turned back around and crept forward silently and slowly. They were so close; they couldn't afford to fail now. Especially not because their more rambunctious trio couldn't control their infantile tendencies. Primus, why did Prowl even assign them to his group anyway? They were about as stealthy as a nuclear explosion. And this required absolute secrecy. Smokescreen had trouble enough being the size he was in such a conspicuous color scheme without the three stooges there to slag it up.

In the old days his job was much easier. Back when the Decepticons were never quite sure what his function was. However it didn't take very long before they discovered he was the diversionary tactician. Working closely with Prowl, it was Smokescreen's job to make sure the enemy figured out the true strategy at the last possible moment. Now that his function was well known, Smokescreen had to be a bit more clever in how he ran things. The 'Cons always hated it w hen he showed up to a battle as they were never quite sure what he was up to.

Today he was doing just as he always did. Yet when the Decepticons detected him and the others, they would assume he was acting in the main force. His presence would make them believe he was _trying_ to make them take him for a distraction. In truth, as they went to attack him, the real main force would arrive from behind with Smokescreen's team aiding on the other side. In some ways, now that the 'Cons knew what he was, it was easier to baffle them.

A little reverse psychology went a long way sometimes.

The twins were going at it again and he forced himself not to shoot them and go on by himself. The voices of the Decepticons in the distance got louder and louder the closer they crept. Very soon they would be upon them.

"Follow my lead," he told them. "When they see me, they'll be confused. Let me handle it."

Bluestreak didn't seem very comfortable with the idea of throwing away the element of surprise, but he nodded anyway, hugging his rifle closer. The gruesome twosome scowled, not liking the idea of someone else 'handling it.' Gears grunted. Bumblebee, well used to Smokescreen's tactics, offered no argument.

Good enough.

He smiled to himself as he purposely snapped a large twig. The Autobots behind him, minus Bumblebee, jerked up in alarm. What was he trying to do, get them killed?

"What was that?" Rumble's voice inquired, much closer than they thought he would be.

Without warning, Smokescreen burst into a noisy sprint, counting on the others to keep up. Keep up they did, but no one was quite sure if they were merely following him or chasing him so they might murder him at the end.

The sounds of many pursuing Decepticons fueled the sudden run. Smokescreen led them to the nearby coordinates Prowl had given him. Into a clearing he sprinted, skidding to a stop at the other end. Sideswipe halted less than a foot away to avoid crashing into him. This act caused his brother to crash into him as Sunstreaker wasn't quite so quick on the uptake. Rather than run into Sunstreaker, Bluestreak chose the wiser option of leaning back so that he slid to a stop in the dirt. Poor Gears and Bumblebee, not built to race alongside bots three times their size, merely collapsed at Smokescreen's feet.

Oh for the love of… it wasn't _that_ long of a run!

The Decepticons entered the clearing soon after, halting just as the Autobots were in view. It was Thrust, Ramjet, Dirge, Soundwave, and his cassettes. A formidable force indeed. Yet they didn't attack right away, having seen Smokescreen at last.

The Autobot in question gave a feral smile as he locked optics with Thrust. The game of wits had begun. "Come on," he muttered to himself playfully, loving this part of his job. "Which is it, Thrusty? What am I up to ? Diversion or not?"

It seemed the same thoughts were running through the jet's processor. And he was having trouble deciding. He saw the Twins getting to their feet, each with their own considerable arsenal. Any good addition to a main attack force. Bluestreak stood up as well, eyeing the Decepticons warily. A coward, but a master sharpshooter. Yet not too much good in an open field like this. And the mini-bots. Good for a distraction, but not much else. And, of course, there was Smokescreen. A sneakier, more underhanded Autobot Thrust had never met. That slagging son of a can opener would be the death of him one of these days.

There were only two possibilities when dealing with the red and blue. Either he was a diversion or in the main attack force. It was most likely he was a diversion. But then, why bring some of the Autobots' best fighters when they would be better used in attack? Or Smokescreen could be making him think they were a diversion and he was actually just playing the part of a soldier today. But perhaps he thought Thrust would think that, thus falling for the trap…

Smokescreen's job was to increase confusion and that was exactly what the Autobot was doing.

Seeing the colorful Datsun smirk knowlingly, the overconfident fragger, he finally made his decision. "Attack!" the jet cried, rushing forward. The other Decepticons quickly followed, trusting his judgment in Smokescreen's tactics. They were just as eager to knock that smug look off the red and blue's face.

"Hold," Smokescreen ordered the others who glared at him mutinously. Even Bumblebee shifted uneasily at the sight of so many large and heavily armed Decepticons bearing down on him. Seeing the mini-bot's nervousness, the tactician repeated himself fimly. "Hold."

Thrust noticed that the Autobots had yet to unleash a single weapon against him. Assuming it to be another tactic to make him second-guess himself, he continued on, intent on bringing down as many of his enemies as he could.

Just a little bit further and… there!

Smokescreen opened every valve in his body once the Decepticons were close enough. Releasing the black smoke he was so famous for to hide him and his team, he sent a silent signal to Prowl to spring their trap.

At the same time, a friendly afternoon breeze wafted through the field.

OoOoOo

"Thanks for the warning, you multi-colored tin can!" Sunstreaker's melodic voice made its way to Smokescreen who sat pouting nearby.

The diversionary tactician glared back at the badly damaged Lamborghini who was currently being put back together by an irate CMO. "I had to catch the Decepticons by surprise," he defended himself.

"You didn't have to catch _us_ by surprise too!" Gears added testily from his position in the queue for First Aid. He waved his dismembered left hand in his right menacingly.

"I didn't aim it at you. It was meant to hide us while we out-flanked them." He rubbed his sore leg where it was badly singed. The fact that he was the least wounded of his team did nothing to win him favor. "How was I supposed to know the wind would blow it back into our faces?"

Blow back, the black smoke did indeed. Stunned by the sudden cloud around them, the Autobots were unable to fend off the advancing Decepticons. It was only due to Prowl's quick rescue that the decoy team wasn't completely ripped apart. A fact that Sideswipe, who rarely took the Vice Commander's side on anything, continued to remind Smokescreen even as he and Wheeljack went on in their search for all his missing parts.

Bluestreak, being the nice guy he was, just lay in misery as First Aid patched him back together. Bumblebee was unconscious at the moment and had no comment to make.

"Oh and thanks for actually telling us what we were doing before we did it," Sunstreaker railed on, channeling his pain and anguish from every scratch and dent into anger.

"You know what you needed when you needed to know it," the sour Datsun retorted. "Since when do I answer to you anyway?"

Prowl shook his head as the pair argued on. Sometimes it wasn't anyone's fault that a plan went wrong. Sometimes it was just a matter of which way the wind blew.

**Murphy's Law of Warfare: Tear gas doesn't only work on the bad guys, and regardless of wind direction, will always blow back in your face.**

**A/N: **Thus concludes the last of the 'Murphy's Laws' that were completed during the summer. The others, and there are many of them, I will have to work on from now on. So just be patient with me as my classes in China aren't exactly the easiest in the world. I know it doesn't seem like it, but I really am trying to plug out the next part to 'Mr. Nice Guy.' I'm having some writer's block with it, the darned thing just won't write itself. Don't you just hate it when that happens? I need an idea of a prank. I won't say for who, but I still need a good one.

**Review Time!**

AngelMouse5: Yeah he is. A shame too, because he would be so much fun to do things with. Thank you, I always figured that Soundwave and Blaster would have a lot in common as they are both the communications guys on their respective sides.

Omicron the Ice Queen: Lmao, don't die on me! You should write it, I'd love to see that happening : ) They always underestimate the little fleshies.

Turbomagnus: Yeah, I saw that too. They must have so much fun playing their little 'game' with each other, trying to outwit the other. Lol, knowing each other so well just makes the 'game' that much more interesting to play!

That Crazy Halo Girl: lol, you knew it all along, huh? Glad you liked it!

Tiamat1972: That's ok, don't worry about it : ) Aw, pat your kid on the head for me, I hope he/she gets better soon. And good luck with school. Lol, I'm sure the other minis wouldn't mind so much, but hey, the little guys gotta stick together, right? But no, he really doesn't have a clue. Oh I'm sure Blaster has gotten Soundwave good in the past too, though. Wouldn't be much of a rivalry without an equal playing field. Nope, not gonna end it any time in the near future. Thanks for the comment on 'Our Revels.' I'm hoping it'll be up to snuff to stand with the other two.

Trueborn Chaos: Well, you know Megs. All dignified and refined and all that ; ) lol, nice? Wow, I'm glad you're not ambiguous or anything… j/k. Thanks for the 'chicken' examples. They did help. As well as make me smile after a hectic day. I think the cassettes will be a good challenge. It'll be difficult to put in their quirks and still keep them realistic. Know what I mean?


	12. Cosmos

Part Twelve

Alright, let's face it. He was bored. Not just bored, as in he had nothing to do. Bored as in he was at the point where he wanted to go down to Nebraska and float around outside some poor farmer's window making beep-beep noises and use an arm laser to make some sort of squiggle in the corn.

_That_ kind of bored.

The only thing that stopped him was the promise of much retribution by way of one rather humorless Vice Commander. It was simply not worth it.

But how oh so tempting it was.

Cosmos was a bit of a loner by nature. He liked having time to himself to think and ponder, which was why he generally did so well as a solitary sky in the Earth's orbit. Sky Lynx mucked about now and again to see how he was, but by and large, the little mini-bot was all by himself. Yet even though he didn't mind his job, that didn't mean he wasn't lonely from time to time.

And now was his perfect opportunity to sneak down for a minute.

An intercepted transmission informed the little mini-bot that a major battle was going on down below. Therefore, there would be no real Decepticon activities to observe until its conclusion.

Making up his mind, Cosmos descended into Earth's atmosphere, eager to be a part of the action. He was under no illusion to believe he was terribly useful in combat. Small, bulky, and with no real firepower to speak of, Cosmos was hardly the natural warrior so many of his comrades were.

But surely he could do something.

As the ground came closer and closer into sight and he entered the middle-most clouds, the green mini-bot could see the Aerialbots playing laser tag with the Seekers. Skywarp was gaining on Fireflight and looked as though he would overtake him being much older and experienced.

Taking careful aim, Cosmos shot a laser at Thundercracker's nose, making the jet veer off course.

Score one for the little guy.

Confidence soaring from his successful hit, the little U.F.O. swooped after the stunned Seeker hoping to bring him down.

"Move it, runt!" hollered Slingshot, coming up from behind. As he yelled, the Aerialbot shot two of his missiles, both just barely missing poor Cosmos.

"Hey, I'm flying here!" the mini-bot yelled back, but dropped away from the dogfight anyway. One didn't mess with an Aerialbot when they were on the tail of their prey.

So he flew lower hoping to find some ground targets he might hit. An extra bot on your side could make all the difference. Perhaps even he might turn the tide of the battle.

Straight ahead, Cosmos saw Dead End and Breakdown sneaking up on Bluestreak who apparently wandered too close to the frontline.

With a few well-aimed shots, the green spy drove off the Decepticons.

The downside of this was the fact that Blue was unaware of the Decepticons and therefore thought the shots flying around his head were for him. Whipping around, the grey gunner fired half his magazine in Cosmos' direction. The deadly combination of Cosmos not maneuvering well, Blue's excellent marksmanship, and the high number of shots fired meant a very unhappy mini-bot soon came spiraling down.

Right into the middle of another battle.

Now Sunstreaker was no gentle soul. But then, he never claimed to be either. The majority of the mini-bots generally left him alone as he had no qualms about picking on bots smaller than himself.

And today he actually came through on a threat he'd made since day one, though this time completely on accident.

Sunstreaker stepped on a mini-bot. Cosmos to be exact.

"What in the…" the yellow warrior looked down, pausing from his charge. "What the hell are you doin' down there, pipsqueak?" he demanded.

Cosmos just moaned pitifully.

Sunny glanced at the heavens. "Why me?" he asked of whatever deity that might be listening. Then being the nice guy he was, he figured he may as well take the little roadblock back to Ratchet before he tripped over him again.

Besides, a dead mini-bot meant a lot of tedious paperwork. And Sunstreaker didn't do tedious. Or paperwork

So heaving the runt over his shoulder, the yellow warrior trudged back to the defensive line where he could already hear the CMO's sweet melodic voice rising above the cacophony of battle. "Oy!" he called over to the medic when he got close enough. "Doc!"

Ratchet's head snapped up at Sunstreaker's call and scowled. "Don't tell me you're injured already, Sunshine," he barked. "You're walking just fine. Get your aft back there and don't come back unl…"

"Ain't me," Sunstreaker replied, ignoring the annoying nickname for once. "Caught this little runt out in the field. Thought you might like him."

That being said, he dropped the little wounded bot on the ground in front of the medic. The only motion Cosmos made to prove that he was still alive was to let out another moan, willing the yellow Lambos before his optics to stop dancing around in circles. They were making his converter lurch unpleasantly into his throat.

"Get lost, and don't let me see you again unless you are riddled with enough holes to resemble Swiss cheese," was Ratchet's unique way of dismissing his most frequent visitor.

His good duty done for the week, Sunstreaker shrugged and returned to the fray, eager to be away from the line of the defense. If his brother ever caught him hanging out way back there…

"Fragging ingrate," Ratchet muttered angrily, laying Cosmos onto his back none too gently. He was too worked up to be giving some tender loving care to any patient. "If I never see his sorry manifold one more time, it'll be too soon." He ran his scanner up and down the wounded mini-bot's body. This time his scowl was focused on his patient. "And what in the name of the Matrix were _you_ doing out there, eh? It's not enough that that piss-yellow doorstop and his gremlin of a brother keep me up to my optics on work. But now you decide to add yourself to the list of Those Whom I Must Deal With? Well?"

Cosmos moaned again for good measure.

Heaving a great sigh, the medic got to work, glad at least for something to keep him occupied. Oh but how he loathed working in the field where he couldn't give his people the care they needed. Give him a modern, fully equipped med-bay any day over this bedlam. As he worked to repair the damage done to the mini-bot, who should never have gone within 20 miles of a battle's radius in his professional opinion, Ratchet continued to mutter vehemently under his breath. He was most likely causing just as much pain as he was fixing it, but from the state the green mini-bot was in, no one was likely to notice.

The next time he was bored, Cosmos decided mid-way through neural processor damage, he would just go bother some farmer in Nebraska.

**Murphy's Law of Warfare: The only thing more dangerous to you than your enemies is your allies.**

A/N: Well, there was someone I've never written for before : ) This rule I also found quite true during AF training. And I have the bruises to prove it. Ouch! Friendly fire isn't so friendly after all! In recent news in the Life of Ti: Friday night me and some friends camped out in Tiananmen Square overnight to see the flag ceremony at dawn. Man, that was some wild times! I'll try to post pictures on my Dev account soon.

Reviews!

DesertCat87: Hey you! Yeah, poor Smokescreen. He's a fun guy if a bit misunderstood at times. Not like he had the best team to work with either. Thanks, I had hoped I got his character right! I'm sure I'll be talking to you soon, we have lots of work to do!

Blazer-6: Thank you, and yes, the cassettes should be up soon. Lol, a funny Punch story it is! I do agree on the James Bond on the outside and South Park on the inside. However, I think he has the whole cast of SP inside him! That boy has some serious multiple personality disorder issues!

Jason Barnett: Yes, but Blaster didn't have the proper equipment to do a proper tracing whereas Soundwave did. I may have the memory of a goldfish, but I'm pretty sure I put that in ; ) Nice to see a new face!

Angelus Prime: Thank you. Who could have the twins in a story and not have them acting like little kids! Yeah, Smokescreen is a cool, of often ignored, character. He's considered to be the most devious of Autobots who likes to cause confusion. Yet he is one of the most trusted Autobots even though he is the most tricky. His ability to read into other people's minds so well makes him the unofficial psychologist of the team as well. All taken straight from his profile! Glad you liked it!

AngelMouse5: End? Who said anything about ending? Honey, I'm just warming up! I said it was the end of the stories that I had finished over the summer. The rest that I have dreamt up aren't done yet whereas the ones from about Mirage on to Smokescreen were already done and I just had to type them up from paper. Get it? Aaanyway, thanks I'm glad you liked the one with Smokes. He's a lot of fun. And yeah, Bee is always good to have too. I love the little guy.

That Crazy Halo Girl: Yay! I made you laugh! I'm so happy I made you feel better. Thank you so much, I'll do my best!

Stelartron: Thank you. And I loved your idea so I hope you liked what I did with it in 'Mr. Nice Guy.' Your first idea for a prank… well… I already planned something rather similar, but… not. You'll see!

Trueborn Chaos: Lol, I know, I was just picking on you. And thank you, even when you're being incoherent. Yeah, it seems Smokescreen really drew the short straw on that one, huh? At least he had Sides with him to fight with or the team might have come out one mini-bot short. I think I'm getting the hang of them, thanks for your help! Ugh, classes, don't remind me….

Tiamat1972: Yeah it does, doesn't it? Aw, hope you feel better soon! Oh, China is great : ) I have to take a grammar class (boooring), a listening class (shoot me now), and a speaking class (um… cute teacher?). On top of that I'm taking Taiji and Chinese painting. Much fun! Each class is two hours long. I'll have to keep you updated.

Seekerfemmedraca: Yeah, poor guy. Well, I'm doing my part for the cause. Ah! Chib-Smokescreen! Kawaii!

MariaShadow: Oh China is a blast! I'm slowly but surely getting used to it. Very different from back home. Probably very different from New Zealand too now that I think of it. Well the twins are about that stealthy, aren't they? Hm, that is a good prank and very similar to one of the last ones, though not exactly. But I can't give it away, shhhhh!


	13. Beachcomber

Part Thirteen

He knew this wasn't something to be happy about, yet he couldn't fight the feeling of contentment he felt. Being the crew's geologist, it wasn't often that Beachcomber found himself overly involved with the war. And he rarely went into actual combat. Yet today he had been so close to the small coastal mining town that he'd had little choice.

It hadn't been too bad, thank Primus, just a small skirmish really. And now the few Autobots that were there, were beginning relief efforts for the humans caught in the crossfire. They would be done before the day was out.

Well, hopefully.

Grapple and Hoist had been sent down along with some others to help things move along. And thus far, the former was in his element. This was all well and good for the self-proclaimed structural artist, but the others were ready to snap any cycle.

But even with Grapple being, well, Grapple, Beachcomber was entirely happy to be doing this. Helping people rather than hurting them, even indirectly.

He'd be even more delighted if this… creature weren't following him around.

Ok, to be fair, she wasn't so much a creature as a young human being. Scientifically at least.

Either way, this young human had been trailing after him for the better part of the afternoon talking about anything she could think of. It would be one thing if the girl was working as she talked. A little chatter, however inane, definitely made a job easier.

But no, she was just following him.

"…So anyway, we went to check it out. Me and Julie and Sam that is. Not Adam,he went off to his mama 'cause he's a big baby. I mean, he's my _boyfriend_, can you believe it? And he just left me there. Courtney _told_ me he wasn't worth the trouble, but I didn't believe her. I thought she was just jealous 'cause she asked him out last year to the Spring Fling and he turned her down. Anyway, so we went out to see what that big noise was…"

Sweet Primus, save him…

An hour later, the girl, now identified as Theresa, was still going at it. "…So then those creepy Detartsons, or whatever, went crashing into my house! Can you believe it? I mean, I never did anything to them and they just destroyed, like, everything I owned! It better be tax deductible or something 'cause I'm wicked pissed! All my clothes, my movies, my computer, and my stereo with all my music! Ok, so most of the music was burned off Kazaa, but it's the principle of the thing. Oh you won't tell anyone I use Kazaa, right? I don't even use it that much…"

Wasn't there a law somewhere against cruel and unusual punishment?

In an effort to get rid of the girl, or at least drown her out, the little geologist wandered over to a place where he never dared venture.

Wherever the twins were.

The gruesome twosome were working together trying to remove some fallen beams under which came weak cries for help.

"Hey guys," he greeted in as friendly a tone as he could manage. The twins being who they were and he being who he was, they didn't exactly run in the same social circles.

"Hey yourself," Sideswipe grunted, trying to lift a particularly difficult piece of rubble.

"Need any help?" Beachcomber tried, knowing that if he didn't strike up conversation, no one would.

Sunstreaker let out a strained chuckle as he tried to help his brother. "From you?"

But the geologist would not be deterred. If anyone could make a human shut up it would be the yellow warrior, or if all else failed, the red one. "An extra hand never hurt anyone," he defended himself.

"If it makes you happy," Sideswipe verbally shrugged, unable to do so physically because of this stubborn beam lodged tightly between the others.

Eagerly, Beachcomber went to the center of the mess, hoping that by helping the twins get this beam out of the way he would earn favor enough to stay. He also hoped that Theresa would see that she was being ignored and wander away to bother someone else.

To his great dismay, she did not. Instead she followed the small bot, still chattering about something. Occasionally she half-heartedly moved a twig or something to give the appearance of helping.

"This is too dangerous for you," he tried to make her see to reason. "You should go find your parents and leave this to us."

"Oh my parents will be fine," she waved her hand. "I'll just stay here and help. After all, an extra hand never hurt anyone, right?"

Perhaps he could step on her and call it an accident…

"Oy!" Sunstreaker barked out. "Get your pet out of here if you don't want it squished."

"I am not a pet and I am not an it!" she crossed her arms indignantly. "You be nice, you! You are the rudest little…"

Sideswipe nearly lost his grip on the beam from laughing so hard. This little flesh creature was daring to speak down to his brother when the most ferocious Decepticons ran at the sight of him? Either this human was very very brave or the stupidest on the planet.

The yellow warrior's frame started to vibrate the more this uppity… thing chastised him like a little child. Dangerous slitted optics burned into Beachcomber's own wide ones. He said nothing, but the message was clear. 'Get her away from me NOW!'

"Theresa, please, go on and find your parents," Beachcomber tried to get her attention from the furious melee warrior with a lot of weapons and no patience. He was a naturally peaceful, friendly, and kind bot, but she was pushing his buttons like Cliffjumper never could hope to.

"No, you can't make me! I want to stay and I will!"

Ok, that was it.

"Theresa, get away from here right now! If you say one more word I will personally drive you to the center of the desert and leave you there! You have done nothing but talk my audios into malfunction all day and I am fragging sick of it! Get lost you annoying carbon-based squishy life form!"

Wow that felt good.

Arms dropping at her side, the young girl stared at him speechless for a moment. Then, with large tears welling in her eyes, she turned around and ran as though a Decepticon were after her. Beachcomber felt bad for upsetting her, but it needed to be done. Sideswipe tapped him on his shoulder, a strange expression on his youthful face.

"What?" the geologist huffed, coming down from his rush.

"Smile and wave, Beachy," was the twin's message before pointing to an area near some trees. He hadn't seen them at first, but now that Sidewipe pointed them out, he could see them quite clearly. Huddled in the shade were the cameras for no less that 5 news channels. All pointed at him as reporters talked quickly into their microphones.

And he doubted they'd caught his best side.

**Murphy's Law of Law Enforcement: The second you finally lose it and flip out on someone, you will become a star on 'Eyewitness News.'**

A/N: Hm... I'm going to have to reserve judgment on this one. He was fun to write and I'm glad I finally finished this one. I have three other ones finished already, so which one would you like to see next? Omega, Prime, or Prowl?

Reviews!

MariaShadow: Yeah, poor Cosmos is right. I saw an illustration of Cosmos being 'badass' according to the artist. It was awesome! Go Cosmos! Thank you : ) As surly as Sunny gets, I still love the yellow lug. Yes, of course I'm still working on 'NvN' ; ) I'm sorry I've been lazy with it. I promise it will be up soon so long as you promise to be quick quick with 'Choices' ; ) .

SaphireStars: I always thought of that too, hence why I put it in. I always did wonder just how it would play out.

AngelMouse5: Thank you, I appreciate it. Poor Cosmos, he should just go bug Nebraska, neh?

Uftaki: lol, yeah, poor little guy. I'm sure Prowl doesn't mind too much, he seems to like that sort of thing…

TruebornChaos: lmao, I always love reading your comments! Well I do Cosmos, apparently. Thank you so much. Hahaha, yeah I can picture some farmer trying to shoot down Cosmos. Nope, no incoherent this time!

Draange: It's nice to hear from you again too : ) Thank you so much!

Angelus Prime: Yeah, well since he's not exactly right next to Prowl in popularity we never get to see much of it, but it's the truth, I swear! ; ) lol I remember watching it when I was real little. Way back when cartoons were good. Good times… Cosmos was definitely very interesting to write as I've never even really considered him before. Thank you!


	14. Prowl

Part Fourteen

As far as days went, Prowl was having a rather nice one. The sun was shining, the air cool against his body… and best of all he was completely alone. No Ratchet hollering at him for missing a check-up. No Prime asking for the day's ops orders. No Red Alert with this week's list of spies and infiltrators. And best of all, not a Lamborghini for 20 miles each way.

His days of leave were few and far between. And even when he did take the odd day off, there was always something he had to do anyway. So instead of sitting around at the Ark waiting to be coerced into something, he'd taken the initiative.

A robbery had occurred not too far away and local authorities were certain the perpetrator would use this road as a possible getaway route. So instead of trying to have one of their cruisers beat the robber, they'd given the much closer Ark a call. Prowl had volunteered for the job, eager to be out and doing something rather than sit around and wait for catastrophe to strike. It was likely the criminal would be caught long before they ever came this way, but it still served as a wonderful excuse to take off for the day.

"Skydive to Prowl," chimed in the soft voice of an Aerialbot overhead.

"Yes?" he asked.

"Is everything alright?" The jet made another circle above the long Datsun. "I was on patrol and noticed you were just sitting here."

"Everything is fine," he assured the young bot. "I am conducting a mission for local law enforcements."

"Alright," Skydive said. "Just making sure."

"Thank you for the concern."

The Aerialbot waggled his wings and sped off into the sky, leaving him in peace and quiet once more. Now _there_ was something he hadn't had for a while. Prowl mentally patted himself on the back for taking this assignment.

The last time he had assisted the Oregon police department, it had been at a hostage situation at the post office. It was an absolute nightmare; there were so many curious and innocent civilians around that could have been killed or injured. Here it was safe. Here he could do what was needed to apprehend the suspect.

"Hey Prowl!"

Here, apparently, wasn't far enough away.

Bluestreak fishtailed about 20 feet away, transforming just as he approached his Vice Commander. A cheerful look was on his face as he bounded over and it was all Prowl could do not to sigh. It wasn't that he disliked the little gunner, quite the contrary. Everyone had a soft spot for Blue, the Vice Commander included. But along with being rather excitable, he also tended to show up at inopportune moments.

"Bluestreak," he greeted. "Is there something wrong?"

"No," the gunner shook his head, still smiling. "I heard you were helping the human police catch a robber and I remembered that post office incident last month and I thought that you might need some help cause it might be dangerous and…"

"Bluestreak," Prowl cut him off before a chip burst.

"Uh, yeah?" he smiled sheepishly knowing he was rambling again.

"What did you want to tell me?"

"I wanted to know if I could help too. An extra gun never hurt, right?"

Actually, an extra gun could do quite a bit of unneeded damage. Prowl had wanted to do this on his own without anyone else to manage. Nothing against Blue or the others, but sometimes he just needed to be on his own. "This really is my assignment," he said gently, hoping to let him down easily.

Bluestreak nodded, a happy smile still lighting his features.

"To complete on my own."

Another nod.

"Alone."

Understanding finally made its way into the gunner's processor and he visibly wilted. He had really wanted to help; to prove that he was just as capable as his fellow Autobots who often found him to be among the weakest. A more forced smile replaced his cheerful one. "Ok," he said. "I'll… just be seeing you around then. Good luck."

He turned around and began to walk on foot back to the base, subspacing his weapon. Prowl noted the slight droop in the Datsun's shoulders, the lowered head… Primus he hated seeing his young friend hurt. And this time it was his own slagging doing. Still, it was something that needed to be done. He couldn't falter just because one of his soldiers' feelings were hurt. The mighty Autobot Vice Commander couldn't afford to be soft and weak. He couldn't be moved by a pair of baby blue optics as bright and trusting as a sparkling's.

"But I would be grateful for the extra help."

Ok, so he was soft and weak. Big slagging deal.

Bluestreak returned to him, all the hurt replaced with happiness as if it were never there. Transforming back into his alternate mode, the gunner took his place beside his superior and waited silently. Determined to prove his worth, and not realizing that he was the only one who thought he had to.

Still, no humans approached, robbers or no robbers.

To his credit, Bluestreak remained silent and attentive throughout their long wait, even when he became impatient. He would not screw this up, and it was to this purpose that he reigned in his jittery behavior to avoid distracting his Vice Commander.

The gunner needn't have done so, for a distraction in the forms of two primary colored bots appeared on the horizon. Circling each other in a wild game of chase, the Lamborghini brothers arrived like two demons descended onto this earth to terrorize those with ordinary lives.

Joy and rapture.

"Hey, Prowl!" Sideswipe called out cheerfully, swerving in front of his brother and skidding to a stop. Not missing a beat, Sunstreaker fishtailed out of the way and came to a halt beside the other.

"Good afternoon," Prowl replied almost cautiously. What in the name of Primus could they want? It was their collective day off, so logically they would want to be as far apart from him as possible. Why was it that logic played no part in either brother's processing?

"Heard you were out catching some bad guys," Sunstreaker said. "And we wanted to know if you wanted some extra guns."

He wanted to arrest the criminal, not send him home in a matchbox. Therefore he said in a firm no-nonsense voice, "no thank you. Bluestreak and I are quite capable of taking care of the situation."

Out of the corner of his headlight, the tactician saw the gunner lift himself up on his axles a little.

"But it's our day off," Sideswipe continued. "And we wanna be here."

Oh sweet Primus…

"It's not like you can order us away," Sunstreaker put in.

"Whether or not you are on duty, I remain your superior officer. I may order you to leave whenever I wish."

Were the twins transformed, the Autobot V/Co had no doubt there would be identical pouts adorning the Lambo's handsome faces. As it stood, all that alerted him to their ever shifting mood was the slouch in their tires and the grumpy rumble of their engines. Surely it wasn't too much to ask that they act their ages.

Apparently it was.

"How d'you like that, Sunny?" Sideswipe complained. "Being treated like slag just cause we wanna help… the few times we act like nice and cuddly Autobots and we get blown off."

"Almost makes you not wanna be nice and cuddly anymore," his brother added, ever the helpful one.

"Yeah, that's the last time I take a missile for my Vice since he just wants to deal with his own problems…"

"May I ask why exactly your sparks are so bent on 'helping' me?" Prowl tried, hoping to avoid any more whining. His CPU couldn't take it anymore.

"Well not anymore we aren't," Sideswipe denied in a self-righteous huff. "In fact, I don't think I want to even give you that extra week of good behavior for your sparking day anymore."

Ah, it was the choice between the noose and the rifle, was it?

Hating himself even as he said it, Prowl heaved a great sigh. "I… would be most delighted if both of you would assist me."

"Say please," the red one sang out.

Oh this was getting ridiculous… "I believe that I…"

"I hear frogs this year are rather cheap," Sunstreaker mused out loud.

Prowl didn't know.

He didn't particularly _want_ to know.

"Please."

OoOoOo

30 more minutes had gone by and still no humans drove by. That wasn't to say that Prowl was lonely or bored by any means. Quite the contrary in fact. The twins provided plenty of conversation and entertainment. Bluestreak either remained silent as he didn't wish to have the two Lamborghinis notice his presence any more than mandatory or came up with some creative pondering on why no criminals drove by yet.

Skydive was still in the area 'just in case.' Jazz had heard about the whole excursion and dropped by to offer an extra rifle. Even Tracks came to see what the buzz was all about.

Within two hours of the initial stakeout, the small area around the 2IC resembled a good sized parking lot.

Not the stealthiest of stakeouts ever.

Finally, in the distance, a cloud of dust arrived on the horizon. At last, a break in the hell that was his existence!

The twins stopped in the middle of a rather long-winded, and highly inaccurate, reenactment of Prowl's reaction to their latest prank. As one, they converged onto the human vehicle before the one actually assigned the case could move.

"Who are you?" demanded Sunstreaker as they circled the car that had screeched to a halt.

"Where did you come from?" his brother interrogated the humans within.

"Where are you going?"

"Where's the money you stole?"

"How many are in on it?"

"Both of you, stand down!" Prowl ordered, transforming and coming up to the three cars. Reluctantly, the twins obeyed. However they did transform and stand behind Prowl, looking like two very large and multicolored bodyguards. Primus, couldn't they act this serious during real battles?

"I apologize for their behavior," Prowl said to the frightened young couple. In the backseat a baby started crying.

Finally the man in the driver's seat managed to pull himself together long enough to nod. "Th-that's fine. Really."

Hm. They must not be from around here.

Prowl let them by as the family was obviously not a group of criminals. He glared at the twins once the station wagon had squealed out of sight.

"What?" Sunstreaker demanded defensively.

"We were only trying to help," Sideswipe added.

Prowl just glared.

"Pfft, fine!" the red twin went into sulk-mode and trudged back to his original position to wait some more. The yellow one followed soon after.

Sideswipe's telekinesis appeared to be much improved since Prowl's last lecture.

Thus continued the doomed stakeout.

Perking back up quickly, as he always did, Sideswipe returned to his series of foul jokes and impressions to amuse the large gathered crowd of 'helpers.'

Another few cycles passed in this fashion.

No criminals came.

A few more cars filled with families or elderly humans did though. And the stir-crazy 'helpers,' led by the incurable twins, made sure to scare the tar out of every last one of them in much the same way as the first.

As for Prowl, he was having trouble keeping track of what punishment was going to who for which transgression. He'd hoped that after an hour or so of dealing with a cranky 2IC who was giving out graveyard shifts and maintenance duty like energon-goodies, the 'helpers' would go home.

Ah if only weapons were made of false wishes, he'd single-handedly win this Primus-cursed war. Because his little posse wasn't leaving.

The sun was nearing the horizon, its bright rays reflecting off everyone's chassis. Prowl was never one for sentiment, but even he had to admit that it was a breathtaking sight to see this alien sun dipping behind the large mountains in the distance. Earth may have only one sun, but Primus was it beautiful. If only Cybertron hadn't been thrown from its orbit, its inhabitants might be able to enjoy a similar sight every day instead of the perpetual darkness.

Just as he was about to call it quits and go back to base, with or without his helpers, one last car approached them. He could see the twins, who were sitting together plotting something, perk up at the sound of an engine. The others too glanced over and smiled at each other in excitement. Maybe this was it!

Not about to let one more human get frightened to death by his soldiers, Prowl quickly stepped forward, holding up his hands to still the others. "Stand down," he ordered, turning to meet the car. That was it, after this one he was going home.

Bill turned to the driver of their vehicle. "Mac, this is it, we're done for."

Mac's eyes widened at the sight of a dozen Autobots blocking their way to freedom. "They called the Autobots! Oh man, Billy, what're we gonna do?"

"Keep cool, guys," Vicky ordered in the backseat. "They can't hurt us, the most they'll do is take us in to the cops."

"I don't wanna go to jail, Vicky!" Bill cried, feeling himself go into a cold sweat. "Let's just turn around and try to outrace them. They can't be that fast."

"I've seen those two on t.v. before," Mac shook his head seeing a pair of large red and yellow bots. "Jail's better than messing with these guys, trust me."

"Let's just surrender nice and easy," Vicky suggested, lamenting the bags of money in the trunk. "It's over, boys."

Sighing in defeat, Mac came to a stop right before what looked like the leader of the giant robots. Oh his mother would not like hearing from him in jail. But seeing the red and yellow bots eyeing him and his car hungrily, he figured he'd take his chances with his mother. The large white one knelt down to his level to speak.

This was it.

"Please excuse us," the white Autobot apologized tiredly. "We are waiting for someone, so do not be alarmed. You may go on your way."

"Um…" Mac looked over at Bill who stared back at him blankly.

"Just go, Mac," Vick hissed in his ear too softly for the bot to hear.

"Er, thanks," he nodded to the white robot and turned the engine back on, expecting to be stopped any moment now. But none of the alien creatures made any movement to stop him, though the red and yellow ones looked disappointed. Stiffly he drove on into the desert. Perhaps his mother would not be hearing from the police after all.

He wondered just who the Autobots were waiting for anyway, if not for them.

**Murphy's Law of Law Enforcement: Even if you drive your patrol car to the geometric center of the ****Gobi****Desert****, you can never be far enough away to avoid stupidity.**

A/N: Well that was a long one, wasn't it: ) I did so much writing for characters I barely knew that I figured I'd go back to one of my tried and true boys. I want to thank everyone who's reviewed my stories, new, old, and the ones that take forever. Your comments mean a lot to me, you guys are the best! Lol, ok, I'll step off my soap-box now.

Review Time!

MariaShadow: Sorry I've been lousy at keeping up my end of the bargain, it won't be long, I promise. Yeah, poor Beachcomber, but I guess there are worse things out there than irritating ramblers.

DesertCat87: Lol,thank you Des, you always know I want to know what you think! Oh Beachy, the one time he loses it…

TruebornChaos: I'm sure we've all had moments like that where we wish we could just squash someone. Well you got your number one choice right, let's see if you get the others too…

SaphireStars: Yeah, that wouldn't have looked too good on the news, would it?

AngelMouse5: lol, thanks. Yeah, you'd have to be desperate to risk ticking off the twins.

Draange: Occasionally? Heck I make it a personal goal to do it once per day. Good for the heart. Lol, you'll see when he comes up. Perhaps next time? Perhaps not?

Turbomagnus: Yes, the one pre-requisite for joining Troublemakers Not So Anonymous: flip out on some poor annoying soul. Nope, no Omega just yet. Perhaps he'll be next? ; )

Blazer-6: Thanks! Well there's a few reasons why I won't be going too obscure: 1. Even with the profiles, I'd like to have some sort of idea who this person is. 2. I've never read one of the comics much to my distress. 3. That opens a whole other can of worms of people I could do. But Punch and the cassettes are definitely on the way, don't you worry: )

Roadblock: Lol, don't I know it! I hate that ; )

Vigatus: Thank you so much! Grimlock? Wow, there's one I completely overlooked. Will do! I'll have to find a good one for the big guy.

That Crazy Halo Girl: Hey, I have a qq: You wouldn't happen to be Halo2012, would you? Thanks, I'm glad you liked it. Poor fleshy girl? Ha! Poor Beachy! You got your wish and here is Prowl!

Angelus Prime: Lmao, nope! Yeah, that'll take some serious PR work to recover that one! Sorry, not either one this time. You'll just have to see who's next.


	15. Optimus Prime

A/N: Sorry, Des. I changed my mind ; )

Part Fifteen

It was impossible.

It was illogical.

It was insane.

And yet… it was completely true.

There'd been no loss of life, thank the Matrix, but that did not improve the situation that much. He was still in hot water and it was only a matter of time before the others found out.

And by Primus could Prowl stare.

Prime resisted the urge to fidget under the calm calculating gaze. It was neither professional, appropriate, nor like him. Not to mention it would give him away in a nanoclick. Under any other circumstance, he'd take complete responsibility for the blunder. However, this was one slightly too embarrassing even for him. And he'd much rather not admit it in front of the entire squadron.

He did have an image to uphold after all.

"Prime," Prowl said. Just that. Nothing more. Not even any 'tone' to go with it.

How did his Vice do that? Just with one word?

Optimus did not reply to the wordless query, nor to the not-so-wordless ones of his troops. Instead he did what he swore to never do. What he always scoffed Megatron for doing.

He fled with his little proverbial tail between his legs.

The tactician, however, was never one to let his victim escape, superior or no superior. "Prime?"

With one slagging word…

"Man if this don' beat all!" Ironhide exclaimed from his slouched lean against a wall. "An' Ah was hopin' t' kick some 'Con butt too!" He glared around the room as if to root out the transgressor. Someone had denied him a skidplate whooping and whoever it was had quite a bit of explaining to do.

Prime remained tight-lipped, optics locked with his suspicious Vice Commander.

"Hey, didn't Prime…"

"No I didn't," Optimus interrupted Bumblebee before mentally flinching. Smooth one Pax, they won't see that one.

The mini-bot cocked his head to the side, looking as though he were going to argue.

Shut up, Bee. Just shut up.

"No, I think he's right," Slingshot thought aloud. "You were the one who said that the 'Cons were at sector 42. But they were actually at 24."

"I assure you I said no such thing," the Commander insisted. "However I will get at the bottom of it."

"But Prime…"

"I'm sorry, Hotspot, but you are mistaken," Optimus insisted as gently as he could. "And unless you have proof of an error on my part, I will not hear anymore about it. After all, one is innocent until proven guilty. It is the Autobot way."

"We were all there, Prime," Jazz cut in. "An' we all heard y' say 42."

There was a moment where no one spoke or moved, each waiting for another to follow that comment up.

Prime worked himself up to a mental sweat, wondering just how he could come out of this with some remnants of dignity left intact. Then his optics alighted upon his saving grace and a great weight lifted from his proud shoulders. "And if Sideswipe ever learns to keep a professional military bearing during serious moments, such errors may be avoided altogether."

Caught with his proverbial pants down, the Lamborghini stared up at his Commander, wondering just what in the world was going on. What had he missed? Did he do something wrong again? Where was he when he did this? He was used to being blamed for plenty of things that were and weren't his fault. But this? "I made you say 42?"

"Sideswipe," the Prime shook his head patronizingly. "Please keep focused on the issue at hand."

"What?" the young warrior was still just as lost as before. His brother wore a similar expression on his face.

Sparing a glance at his Vice Commander as though to say 'there, you see?', Optimus Prime finally turned around and made it the rest of his way to his quarters.

Left in his wake was one very puzzled squadron.

**Murphy's Law of Warfare: Admit nothing, deny everything, demand proof, then blame a Private.**

A/N: This was originally going to be for Prowl, but I decided that using Prime would serve two purposes: it's much more fun, and it would keep me from repeating myself. So now you get to pick between Omega, Ratchet, and Wheeljack for the next one.

Reviews!

SaphireStars: Suddenly? Lol, girlie, I've loved them for ages!

Turbomagnus: Yeah, it'll be Lambo Season in the Ark for quite a while after this one!

That Crazy Halo Girl: Lol, ok, hello! Thanks, the robbers were a last minute thing, glad you liked it. Hahaha, that's ok, thank you anyway!

Puffball: Hey, I know you! Oh Prowl… If I were a Lambo I'd be avoiding him for quite a while after that one.

AngelMouse5: Thank you, I really appreciate it!

MariaShadow: Oh definitely. But really, who could deny Blue anything? Yeah, poor Prowl, the dear mech needs a long vacation somewhere very far away from his insane troops. Thank you so much, Shades!

Angelus Prime: Well wonder no longer. Well Prowl half brought it on himself, y'know. He could've made it an order ; )

Seekerfemmedraca: lol, thank you, I'm rather partial to that line as well. He'd coming he's coming, I just had to re-read his profile again and I just made quite a dent in his chapter.

TruebornChaos: Thanks! Well maybe Prowl could make an appointment on 'Screen's couch, eh? But Smokescreen is sometimes just nuts as the others, so perhaps he'd just make it worse.

Blazer-6: Thank you. Oh, I see, you're going to make me work, aren't you? And I thought I had escaped from Hot Rod after 'Heaven on their Minds.' Lol, very well, your wish is my command. One Roddy, coming up!


	16. Ratchet

Part Sixteen

I'm going to kill him.

I'm going to kill him.

I'm going to shove my arc welder down his throat and then I'm going to kill him.

It was school safety week, whatever the slag that meant, and nearly every school in the state had called the Autobots hoping for a visitor to speak. Ok, frag that, every school in the fragging _country_ had called. Unwilling to deny such good-natured requests, Optimus agreed to send out as many bots as he could afford.

Apparently that meant Ratchet too. As he was the crew's CMO, Optimus seemed to feel that he was best suited to give a talk on safety.

And boy did Ratchet have a few choice words for his Commander when he got home.

"No no no, stop it!" he cried as yet another child clamored around him, running its grimy hands across his sides. "That tickles!"

That was, it seemed, the wrong thing to say as the rest of the children giggled and all tried it. The worst part was that he couldn't jostle them or even yell for fear of scaring or hurting them. Flesh creatures, especially young ones, were too fragile for his kind of special discipline.

"Thank you again for coming, Ratchet," said the teacher, a young woman by the name of Miss Walsh. She and her first grade class had met the medic in the back parking lot as he was much too big to enter the elementary school. After a quick talk about safety or some slag like that, which went in one little pink audio and out the other, Ratchet had relented to the children's requests for him to transform so they could explore.

Primus, how did he get talked into things like this?

At the current moment, young Miss Walsh wasn't doing slag to keep her young future tax payers from shredding whatever remained of his sanity.

"Oh no, not at all," he tried his best to sound cheerful, and in his opinion he deserved an Elmo or whatever the frag those acting awards were called.

"The children have been looking forward to this for weeks," she went on.

Well wasn't that just slagging precious…

"So have I," he blatantly lied as yet another kid tried to shift him into gear.

Stupid Sideswipe. He and his miserable brother were supposed to come too, but Prowl had pulled them out at the last minute. They were excused from this joyous excursion simply because they were incapable of bullshit in times like this, unlike every other cycle of their lives. Two dozen crying children was obviously not the objective in this visit.

He never thought he would be glad to hear the sudden transmission that he received.

"Ratchet. Ratchet this is Prowl. Respond."

"Yeah?" he asked, shifting from one tire to the other as another little cherub poked a sensitive spot.

"I apologize, but I require your immediate presence at the coordinates I'm sending you. We are taking heavy casualties and the wounded cannot wait. First Aid is wounded as well and unable to continue treating patients."

"On my way." He hoped he didn't come across as too excited. That would lead to rather awkward questions.

Having heard the Autobot's Vice's command, Miss Walsh' pretty face fell in disappointment, but she understood he had to go.

"Children!" she called to her class still wandering around the medic's interior. "Ratchet has to go now, so everyone get out please."

He waited as patiently as possible for the pint-sized humans to do as instructed.

And waited.

And waited a little bit more.

"Come one," Miss Walsh tried again, but with without much force behind her words. "Ratchet really needs to leave."

Damn right he does, Ratchet thought impatiently. Prowl wouldn't interrupt a PR session unless he had to. One of his Autobots could be bleeding their life away and little Miss barely-passive-aggressive was still taking her sweet time. Time he didn't have.

Alright, now for a little aggressive-aggressive.

"That's it," he growled. "Everyone out!"

He jostled himself much too softly to cause any actual harm, but enough to get the message across.

A message that was received before being promptly ignored.

Primus, who needed the twins when he had a dozen of these selectively deaf fleshies?

Giggling, the little ones began to run havoc through his interior, thinking the big funny robot man was making a new game.

"Oh, children, please," Miss Walsh cried. "Come on out now."

Well wasn't she just a big slagging help.

Between the two of them, Ratchet and the teacher managed to coax enough children out that the others eventually followed. Not soon enough for the medic's liking, but hey, few could move that fast.

Once he was sure all the little munchkins were out of his interior, Ratchet barely managed a quick 'bye' before he had peeled off into the streets, sirens blaring. The whole way to the battlefield, he couldn't help but worry. Though he loved to deny it, he cared for each and every one of his Autobots. Every time he cut one open to operate, he cut open a friend. Logically he knew he couldn't save all of them every time. One day he would lose one, be it a mini-bot, one of the cadre, or one of the twins.

He pushed himself even harder, reaching speeds that were unsafe for a vehicle his size.

Someday he would lose a patient. But by Primus, it would not be this day!

By the time he reached the battlefield, the fight was beginning to die down, though still not yet over. The wounded were off to the side with a few guards watching over them. But Prowl was right; the casualties were high, leaving less bots on the field. Those guards would be needed as soon as possible.

"Alright, kiddos," he rolled to a stop. "You can go back and play now."

The others obeyed, knowing the wounded were in capable hands. Sideswipe, however, strayed and didn't follow them. His optics glanced nervously behind Ratchet's back now and then as he spoke. "But won't you need someone to stay and help? I mean, I can guard you as you work, and…"

Ah, his brother was probably among the wounded. "The only thing I need is for you to get out of my way so I can work. You hovering over me is only going to attract more trouble than you're worth. Scram, Rosie." He could understand a brother's worry, but it was best to deal with these things head-on so the warrior could get back to business.

"But…"

"The best way you can protect me is for you to get out there and keep any 'Cons from getting over here. Beat it, Sideswipe, I have it under control." He knew that Sideswipe trusted very few aside from his brother. But he also knew that he happened to be one of those few. When he said it would be alright, it meant that it would be.

Confidence restored, the melee warrior reluctantly returned to battle knowing that the CMO was right and that he was of more use out in the field. If he couldn't stay and protect the medic and his patients, then he could damn well make sure they wouldn't _need_ any protection.

While the rose-colored Sparticus did his thing, Ratchet did a quick triage on the large group of wounded. It seemed that the young Protectobot had done an excellent job in his mentor's absence. Everyone was already laid out according to the seriousness of their condition. Yes, First Aid had done beautifully with many already patched up well enough to last till they reached the med-bay. While no one was on the verge of meeting their Maker just yet, quite a few would need some serious surgery and fast.

The young medic himself was laying nearby the queue, clutching a mangled arm to his chest, his operating arm, and an ugly smoking wound proudly adorning his opposite shoulder. "How you doin', kid?" Ratchet asked conversationally as he saw to his trainee's wounds.

"Been better," the young one grimaced, trying to sound cheerful. "Don't worry about me, Sir, go see to the others. Hound is hurt real bad and Sunstreaker…"

"And I'll get twice the work done with another medic with me," Ratchet finished. He expertly numbed off the pain and sealed over the wound on First Aid's shoulder. "A lot of your wiring was shot to hell in your arm, kid. Can you wiggle your fingers for me?"

The Protectobot tried. His fingers twitched and shook, but he could indeed form some form of control over them. His optics narrowed over his own inability. There was no way his mentor would let him operate like that. Primus, no one in their right mind would let him operate like that.

Ratchet took it all in stride with a swift business-like attitude. "Ok, you take the ones from Trailbreaker down and I'll see to the ones leaking all over the place." First Aid nodded silently and started limping toward the wounded. He was stopped by an uncharacteristically kind hand on his shoulder. "You did real good, kid," Ratchet added. "Most of them wouldn't have lasted long enough for me to get here if you didn't do what you did. I just need you to work your magic a little longer."

First Aid smiled back at his superior; an exhausted half-smile, but one nonetheless. "As long as you need it, Sir," he replied before making his way to Trailbreaker's side. At least the bots Ratchet had given him would require no real delicate work. Just quick patch jobs that would keep them going until they reached the base.

Kneeling next to Hound who made lucky patient number one, the CMO took out his scanner from subspace, running it up and down the tracker's slagged body. Primus, this one was lucky he was still functioning from all the injuries popping up on said scanner. He needed surgery and he needed it now. As he mentally ran through what procedures would need to be done where and in what order, he could hear the younger medic speaking soothingly to Bluestreak who was clearly frightened for his friends and himself. Ratchet had been so relieved to find his apprentice alive and relatively well. And he was damn proud of how First Aid had done in his absence.

He'd been so afraid for him when Prowl had reported the medic as one of the casualties, much as he would deny it. The Protectobot was a good kid, and in time would be a medic to outshine anything Ratchet had ever done. He was too good for this war. So many of the younger mechs were. He could remember way back when _he_ had been too good for this slagging war. That day had long come and gone, but that didn't mean there wasn't hope for the younger ones. Assuming, that was, that they'd survive this great mess their elders had started.

First things first though. He needed his tools if he wanted to save anyone.

Summoning all his materials from subspace, the CMO was shocked and horrified to find that instead of his laser scalpel appearing neatly in one hand, what actually came up was something much smaller. Much more delicate and soft. And much louder.

"Heeeeey!" the little blond boy cried leaping to his feet and clapping in joy. "That was sooooo cool. Can I do that again, mister?"

If Ratchet were human, he'd have paled deathly white. Never had anyone even _tried_ to test subspacing capabilities with a human being. Most assumed that the physical stress of the process would kill it, and there had never been any need to test that theory. But here, in one happy and whole piece, was a previously subspaced human child.

But wait… where was his laser scalpel?

OoOoOo

"Hey, Miz Walsh! Miz Walsh?"

"What's the matter, Katie dear?"

"Look at this! Look at this! This is sooo cool! Look what it does!"

**Murphy's Law of Medical Procedure (aka the Law of Show and Tell): A virtually infinite number of wide-eyed and inquisitive school-aged children can climb into the back of any Ambulance, and given the opportunity, invariably will.**

**Corollary 1: No emergency run will come until they are all inside the Ambulance and playing with the equipment.**

**Corollary 2: It will take at least 4 times as long to get them all out as it took to get them in.**

**Corollary 3: A vital piece of equipment will be missing.**

A/N: For those of you who are worried about dear Hound, Ratchet probably borrowed First Aid's scalpel since the Protectobot wasn't really in any shape to use it ; ) Ratchet came out with one vote ahead so I decided to put him up. That and I want to space out my medic rules.

Reviews!

Turbomagnus: Definitely. You couldn't pay me enough to go back to high school. I've been spoiled by too much freedom. Sorry he didn't make this round either, he'll be up either in the next one, or the one after.

Tiamat1972: Everyone needs a purpose in life I suppose. Sideswipe's is to be the scapegoat. If something went wrong, it's automatically his fault. Well to Prowl a mistake is a mistake : )

Angelus Prime: Oh of course! (hugs poor Prowl) Lol, don't we all?

MariaShadow: Me? Cruel? –sniff- Well I don't have them shoot each other, do I? ; ) j/k. Here's Ratchet, just as you wanted!

SaphireStars: lol, oh yeah. I probably mentioned this, but Beast Wars was actually my first love before I went back to old school. So I definitely know how tough it is to lean a whole new mythos. I'm glad you think my writing is understandable enough (grammar?) for you. Poor Sideswipe is right. I'm not ever really nice to the dear thing, am I?

Puffball: lol, and what would you have done instead?

AngelMouse5: hahaha, thanks! Leave it to the twins to cover for their superiors… willingly or not. Sorry, no 'Jack this time.

TruebornChaos: I can't remember how he said it, but that sounds right. Very wise words! Thanks, I wondered if anyone would catch the 'Pax' part. Lol, poor Sideswipe… that seems to be a running trend with me, isn't it? I think I need to start abusing Sunny more. Lmao, that is awesome, do you have a copy of that list? I think it would definitely work. Well either way they're all coming up at one time or another : ) Yeah, sure, who do you have in mind?

Vigatus: Sorry : ) He'll probably be next though. I hoped you liked this anyway.


	17. Wheeljack

Part Seventeen

"Try it again, Bluestreak!" Wheeljack called. "I want to make sure this thing is foolproof by the time Prime gets out here."

"Ok," the silver Datsun nodded, reloading his gun. He was glad he'd taken the time to help the resident inventor; especially since this particular contraption had yet to explode, implode, or cause any other type of mayhem.

"Go for it!" the white Lancia cried, standing back from where he'd been inspecting the new device. His fins glowed a cheerful bright blue, clearly pleased at the success shown thus far.

Bluestreak complied, firing at the designated rock as instructed. To both mechs' pleasure, there wasn't a mark on the boulder. Wheeljack's shield was working beautifully.

"Is that it?"

The inventor shook his head. "Not yet. I still want to tests its… ah, perfect!"

Just down the road a pair of dust clouds were making their merry way towards the base. As they got closer, Bluestreak could see it was Sideswipe and Sunstreaker coming home from a morning of patrol duty.

"Hey boys," Wheeljack called them over the communicators. "I could use some help, can you come over for a minute?"

"Depends," Sunstreaker answered. "Does it involve us getting blown up?"

"No, not this time," the Lancia chuckled, taking the jibe in good humor. "But you'll get to hit stuff."

As one, the pair turned from their course and headed in their direction. Bluestreak smiled to himself. Always eager to help their fellow mech, those two were.

"So," Sunstreaker asked once he and his brother were transformed and in front of Wheeljack and Bluestreak. "What's the job?"

The inventor's panels glowed a cheerful pale blue as he explained. "Just do what it is you two are best at."

"On him?" the golden warrior asked, jabbing a thumb in the little gunner's direction.

Bluestreak suddenly found very little humor in the situation.

"No no no," the white mech insisted, slightly panicked that by the end of this the Autobots would be substantially Blue-less. "On that rock there."

The twins gave him identical flat looks.

"On the rock," Sideswipe repeated.

"Yes," Wheeljack nodded, relieved that they got the message. He really didn't want to explain to Prowl why one of their best gunners had gone missing. The tactician didn't tend to have a sense of humor about those kinds of things.

"The one over there," Sunstreaker clarified, making sure he knew which rock he was supposed to unleash hell on.

"Yes, the one over there. Get to it, boys. Y'know, whack it. Hit it. Pound it. Wreck havoc. Do whatever it is you do." He waved his arms around theatrically as though to show them exactly what he wanted.

They continued to stare.

"Of course," he baited, "if you can't even dent a stupid little boulder…"

"Woah now," Sunstreaker back-peddled. "We didn't say we couldn't turn it into little sand particles."

"We just wanna know why," his twin finished.

Wheeljack crossed his arms smugly. "Because I don't think you can."

Now any reasonable mech of average intelligence and survival instinct would rather shoot their own arm off before making such a statement to the twins. Therefore it was very fortunate in the mechanic's care that they happened to like him better alive than dead. Instead of taking out their indignation on the one who accused them of fraility, they turned on the offending rock, slashing at it with all they had.

If this rock were able, it would have laughed at the pair of warriors attempting to pulverize it.

As it was, no one was doing much laughing.

"What the slag!" Sunstreaker growled, bringing his energy sword down with enough force to slice a mech in half. The boulder remained untouched.

Wheeljack looked positively jolly.

Sunstreaker looked positively frightening.

"What in the Pit is this?" he demanded of the Lancia. "What are you trying to pull?"

"Nothing I assure you," Wheeljack said, hands held up to placate the frustrated melee fighter. "I just wanted you to help test a new invention of mine."

"You invented a rock?" the red twin asked, head tilted in confusion.

And they said Sideswipe was slow…

"I invented a new kind of forcefield," Wheeljack explained patiently and slowly knowing that science wasn't either twin's forte. "One that will protect the one who carries it from virtually all moderate to severe blows. Bruticus himself would have trouble scrapping you with this activated."

"Well thanks for the heads up," Sunstreaker grumbled, pride still smarting.

"I had to test it," the engineer excused himself. "And what better way to test my new forcefield than having two of our best warriors try it out?"

Alright, a little flattery never hurt anyone.

Pride somewhat repaired, the pair thankfully stowed their rather assorted pain-inducing arsenal.

"Wheeljack," Bluestreak edged in. "Prowl just radioed. They're coming down now."

"Excellent!" He was now fully confident in his invention at this point and couldn't wait to show it off to the senior officers for their approval. Using the external remote he had for the forcefield, he shut it off and retrieved the transmitter from the boulder's surface.

Bluestreak, Sideswipe, and Sunstreaker, having nothing better to do, decided to stay and watch the demonstration. After all, fewer things were better than watching one of Wheeljack's inventions either succeed with flying colors or blow up in his face. Call it sadistic, but they _really_ didn't have anything better to do.

Altogether, the group of observers totaled to around 20 including the command element. First Aid and Perceptor had come with Ratchet… just in case.

"You said you've come up with something?" Prowl asked, though it really wasn't a question.

"Yeah," Wheeljack nodded with pride in his voice. "I got the idea from Trailbreaker's forcefields. Mine aren't as large as his, but they're more powerful."

"How big are they?" Optimus asked, interest piqued.

"Bit enough for mechs up to Ratchet's size to use."

"What?" Sunstreaker demanded, frowning. "Y'mean me and Sides don't get one?"

The inventor back-pedaled, not expecting the warrior's anger. "Well," he quickly assured him, "I am working on making a…"

"Sunstreaker," Prowl interrupted smoothly, safely bringing the melee warrior's attention off the inventor. "If you require the extra protection, all you have to do is ask."

The Lambo gave a very ugly scowl in reply, but brought up no more discussion about having his very own forcefield.

With that mini-drama over with, attention returned to the subject at hand. Wheeljack put the transmitter on himself and gave the remote to Ratchet. "Bluestreak," he said, "once the forcefield is on, fire your rifle at me, alright?"

"Sure," the gunner nodded, full faith in the engineer's device. After all, it had already worked on the boulder. He reloaded his weapon and waited for the go-ahead.

"The finished version as the on/off switched already on the transmitter," Wheeljack explained. "You ready, Ratchet?"

"Ready when you are," the CMO nodded, finger over the 'on' button.

"Actually, you know what?" the Lancia paused. "Blue, use your shoulder cannons instead."

"A-are you sure?" the silver Datsun asked, looking wary. "Cause we only used blasters and melee weapons on it so far, and I'd hate for you to get hurt if the forcefield doesn't work right, and…"

"Show a little faith, kid," Wheeljack's panels flashed a friendly deep blue to reassure the young warrior. "It can hack anything you throw at it. C'mon, trust me, Blue." He nodded over to Ratchet who turned the device on.

Bluestreak looked anything but trustful, however he did as he was told and got the cannons ready. His optics darted past the others, hoping that somehow someone would suggest otherwise. Between his karma and Wheeljack's, he figured one or both of them were going home in Prime's trailer with Ratchet in there with them.

"Hey, can I see that?" Sideswipe asked Ratchet, trying to get a better look at the remote.

"Slag off, Rosie," the medic ordered, nudging the young warrior away. "I don't need you messing something up."

"Ok, kid on the count of three," Wheeljack said.

Sideswipe pouted but tried to get closer anyway. "C'mon, Ratch, I just wanna see it."

"One."

"Beat it," Ratchet held the remote away from Sideswipe's sight, hoping he would just give up and watched the mini-fireworks display. Being a warrior, the Lamborghini hellion was much more entertained by things going boom rather than uninteresting technology.

"Two."

To his dismay, Sideswipe didn't seem to be interested in the show. He leapt up, reaching for the remote like some overgrown child. "Give it here! I won't do anything to it, I promise!" In his enthusiasm, the much taller mech accidentally knocked the remote out of the CMO's hands.

"Three."

The remote broke into many tiny little pieces, some of which sparked half-heartedly before dying out.

Wheeljack grinned, nearly quivering from excitement. "Hit it, Blue!"

**Murphy's Law of Warfare: Success occurs when no one is looking, failure occurs when the General is looking.**

**A/N**: Oooh, poor 'Jack! I love the guy, I really do. I was inspired to finish this law after seeing Straya's wonderful picture of the 'hippie grease-monkey' himself! For those of you who haven't seen her artwork depicting the boys as humans, then trot off and view away, my friends! Her DevArt gallery is a sight to behold, lemme tell you!

**A/N2**: Ok, I give! I've had quite a few requests to make some laws feature the 'Cons. Instead of devoting some chapters to them, I'll just do another 'story' of it. It will be called 'So You Want To Be A Grunt' and will just be about the 'Cons. I have some fun ideas for them. That and I think TruebornChaos will hunt me down if I don't do Soundwave at least once. It won't be posted in the very near future, probably not till this one is nearly done with. So ok, after this post I won't accept any more requests as I try to fizzle it down (insert reader's laugh here). For the moment I have started chapters for: Blaster's Cassettes, Punch, two for First Aid (I've adopted him, ok?), another for Ratchet, Windcharger, Mirage (yeah I love him too…), Tracks, and 'the troublemakers.' I also have requests for Roddy, Grimlock, Brawn, Ultra Magnus, Metroplex, and Slapdash. If you have anyone else in mind, speak now or forever hold your peace!

**And now for review time! Wheee!**

MariaShadow: Poor Ratchet. He's just not used to being away from work, that's all. I'm sure if given enough time, and money, he'd do just fine! ; )

Turbomagnus: Oh I'm sure they did… eventually. Well, use your imagination! Tons of children + one laser scalpel what? Lol. Yup, fire engines work too. Well I don't know if Sunny would walk away from that… Yeah sure, go right ahead! Let me know when you post it so I can come read and enjoy, k?

Tiamat1972: Yeah he does! They can sit and share children horror stories together. I would have paid good money to see the look on his face, myself. I can see him making the kid work as a nurse or something ; ) Nah, I don't know. Given him to someone else I expect. Well, here's your wish!

SaphireStars: Definitely. The Great Unmaker and Bringer of Chaos is nothing compared to a human child with Ratchet's scalpel.

TruebornChaos: Lol oh Ratchet… I love the big guy, I really do. Yes, I'm sure Sunny would do just that. So perhaps it's a good thing I chose his brother for the abuse instead, yeah: ) This is true, I am not Ratchet, so I am quite open for questions. Lol, yes, yes, I'll do Soundwave in the other one for the 'Cons. So start thinking of what Cons you want. Brawn? Ok. Magnus? Yup, got a few requests for him. Metroplex? That'll be tougher, I'll do my best! Slapdash? …… uh yeah sure, whoever he is :runs off to look him up: Nah, I'll try to do him too if you could give me a good starter on who this guy is. Am I totally missing someone who I should know? I am in love with that list! And I would love to see the ones for the D-Cons. Lol, did I mention that I love reading your reviews?

AngelMouse5: lol thank you! Well then, I must have done something right, yes? Happy viewing, I'm with you in spirit!

Seekerfemmedraca: Good, cause I think after this, he needs all the lovin' he can get.

Blazer-6: They're coming, darlin', just be patient : )

Roadblock: lmao, well don't hurt yourself! Just don't call him old or irritable to his face.

That Crazy Halo Girl: Thankee. I tagged you by the way on Devart ; ) I'm glad to have brightened your day a bit. Here's to hoping this one helps as well.

Puffball: Tried what? Sneaking aboard Ratchet? I would too in a heartbeat! Thanks, I love hearing from you! Poor Ratch gets all the luck, eh?

Angelus Prime: I actually like the serious part the best. Probably cause I got to have a nice moment between the medics. Nah, I'm sure the kid came out fine. If not, well, at least Ratchet won't have to worry about being assigned any more PR session.

Stormwind: 1. He'll be along as soon as I find a good law for him. 2. I will in another story. See A/N2 ; )

Vigatus: Thanks and I hope you enjoy this one!


	18. Omega Supreme

Part Eighteen

Literally, his name meant 'The Last Great One.' Many chose to take that to mean that he was the last of the ancient Guardians. And this was certainly true. Of all the ancient Guardians to exist, Omega Supreme was the only one he knew of to survive. While not much to speak of during his youth, now he made a deadly foe that only gestalts really seemed able to contend with.

Yet he chose to take his name and translate it into new context. As the last warrior in the line of defense, Omega knew he was it. He was called to battle only when the Autobots had no other option. He simply took too much energon to keep in battle condition every day not to mention it was wise to have such a powerful being in the last line. The day he fell meant it would be because every single Autobot in the ranks was already dead and the Decepticons had finally won the war.

Optimus Prime was 'The Best One First.' Omega Supreme was 'The Final Force.' The Autobots' last hope for survival.

It was a heavy burden to bear, but it was one he took with pride.

Today was slightly different in that Optimus wasn't calling him out for defensive or transport purposes. Devastator and Bruticus were among the Decepticons currently being engaged, and as Defensor was unable to join Superion in the assault, Omega had been called in. This suited him fine as he had been itching to spar with Devastator again.

The moment he set optic on the combined form of his old friends, his vision narrowed and a deep rage filled his great being. This was another reason Optimus was hesitant to bring him out to battle right away. When Omega got angry, all hell broke loose and neither friend nor foe could be sure he wouldn't strike. He was much safer to everyone to be behind the lines acting as transport or guard.

And even after all these years, the Constructicons never failed to bring out the worst in him.

The moment he entered the field, his world was surrounded with laser fire from every direction. The other Decepticons tried to bring him down as swiftly as possible, knowing what kind of threat he posed. Omega paid them no mind; puny little things like them were hardly worth his attention. Their weapons felt like pinpricks in comparison to what the Guardian was used to. It would take more than that to stop him from reaching his goal.

Devastator didn't know what hit him as Omega Supreme barreled into him with all his power. However the great gestalt soon recovered, pushing Omega off and preparing his own counter-attack. He hadn't counted on the great Autobot to come to this battle, but that didn't mean he wasn't willing to take him on. Quite the contrary.

They said nothing to each other as any words that might help had too long been left unsaid. There was no friendship any longer to save. Only hatred.

Devastator slowly smiled and Omega charged once more, the silent challenge accepted. He lay into the Decepticon with all he had, holding nothing back. It had been far too long since the last time he'd had the chance to let loose.

The combiner was unable to keep up at first, not expecting so much fury at once. And again the six Constructicons that made up Devastator were thankful that they could combine to form this powerful being. If they couldn't, nothing would save them from the Guardian's wrath. As it was, it would be difficult enough to hold off Omega let alone destroy him. And destroy him they would have to if they ever wanted peace ever again.

Today, though, the enormous Autobot just seemed too powerful to defeat. He tried his best, but in the end, Devastator was unable to fend off his former friend.

Omega finally managed to drive the enemy to the ground. Holding Devastator down with his right claw, he prepared to finish him off once and for all. The Constructicon gestalt stared back up at him, unafraid.

They were nothing if not brave. He would miss that at least. They were good friends to have back when he could still call them such. And they were good enemies as well. In his own way, Omega would regret ending their lives. Each had been so dear to him. Each so different from their brothers, but each he loved dearly.

Proud Bonecrusher.

Fiery Hook.

Friendly Scavenger.

Irritable Long Haul.

Excitable Mixmaster.

Gentle Scrapper.

He struck with all his considerable might, holding nothing back.

As one, the Constructicons expected to meet Primus when next they activated their optics.

As one, they were wrong.

The large Guardian was frozen mid-strike as though time itself were stopped, his mouth open in shock. Then with a mighty groan he buckled and fell, nearly crushing the damaged gestalt beneath him. He wasn't dead, no they weren't that lucky. Just knocked out. A single shot from a blaster had hit him in the back of the neck. Too small to do any real serious damage, but enough to disrupt energy flow, thus causing him to collapse. It was a good shot, one in a million.

But who or what had done it when even Devastator was helpless against his fury?

"Hmph!" Rumble snorted, reloading his weapon and walking away. "Fragging Autobot loser!"

**Murphy's Law of Warfare: Just because you have nearly impenetrable body armor and a hard-ass helmet, doesn't mean you don't have exposed areas.**

A/N: Hm, after the fact I think that Bumblebee's law also holds true in this situation. –sigh – this one was tough. It's hard to get into his mind…

Reviews!

Turbomagnus: Yeah, but it failed anyway, poor guy. That's a good idea, sure, I'll do the Protectobots.

SaphireStars: Quick! Somebody call a medic! Ratchet!

Mariashadow: Well we couldn't have a Murphy's Law story without Wheeljack, could we? Thanks, it's from all the practice I suppose ; ) Yup, we'll see how that one goes. Like I don't have enough projects to work on as it is, huh? You too!

Tiamat1972: lol, thank you! Hey, I forgot all about him! I'll have to find a good law for him now… I'm a little Seeker girl at heart, so I know I'll definitely have lots of fun with them.

AngelMouse5: Thank you, I can too: ) Sure, I'll clump Rodimus' in with Hot Rod's as I have a good one that will fit nicely.

DW: Thank you, I'm glad you're enjoying yourself. Yeah, what was he thinking inviting Blue and the twins up to help him? Wow, that's quite a list of requests ; ) I do have one planned for the Aerialbots. Red! Why didn't I think of him sooner? Bad, Ti, bad! Yeah, I can see Ratchet holding the kid hostage in exchange for his laser scalpel. For sequels, I'm doing one for 'Raj, Ratchet, and two are planned for First Aid. And of course, there will be plenty of cameos to go around. You actually have a good number of the 'troublemakers' down, though not all ; ) Oh, but of course I'll have the Seekers! I was a Seeker girl before I ever became a sports car girl. Hm… yeah I suppose I should finish those someday ; ) I'll get on them soon, I promise. If only to finish them. Ah, atole is a food from Mexico, real hard to describe. It tends to give people a lot of energy. It was a running joke with me and my friends during freshman year of college.

HunterBlues: Definitely. Cosmos will definitely be paying him a visit. And yeah, you always get caught saying the worst things by the worst people possible. Blue could possibly escape the wrath. Definitely not the twins though. They won't be able to run fast enough. Yup, Katie ended up with the scalpel. Run from the 1st Grade terror! And nope, didn't say I was stuck, just open for suggestions ; ) Well he is a walking Murphy's Law, how could I not give one to Jack. Yeah they are! Hm… I'm sure Ratchet's wrath would end up with many Siders pieces strewn around the landscape too.

That Crazy Halo Girl: Yup, tag you're it! Thanks, I love Jack I really do. Lol, you don't say?

Angelus Prime: Lol. Oh Wheeljack, if he weren't so used to it, I'd feel sorry for him. Yeah it is, I envy her mad drawing skillz!

TruebornChaos: Once again, you are my hero for sending those links. I just about died over those comics X D Sides'll be extremely lucky if Jack doesn't include in him his next project. Thank you, glad it met your approval. –eyes Predacons – Yikes! Lol, keep those names in mind, cause when I ask for suggestions, I'll need them! -sigh – Oh sure, get into the comic-verses and make me work at it. I see how it is. Hmph, I happen to love Screamer (it seems like if you are a female tf fan you are almost obligated to) and of course he shall have his very own chapter. Now I must find the right law for him… -faint – wow, why don't you just tell me which Autobots NOT to do and save yourself some time ; ) I already found a good law for Metroplex so I'll just do a whole chapter. The lesser used characters tend to be the most interesting. Before the Lambo Craze got off, they were real obscure after all. Ok, that helps with Slapdash. I'll see what I can do, but no promises ; ) and if I don't get him right, keep flames to a minimum. Lmao, that list is better than the Autobot one! Very cool. Gobots… -snicker-

Vigatus: Thank you! Well I had to leave some of it to your imagination ; ) Yup, got one on the way for the Aerialbots. That is a good law, but I found an even better one! You'll see which one…

PuraJazzBot: Hey stranger! Loved talking to you earlier today and hope to do so again! 10: I'm sure he has plenty of times in the past. Wouldn't be a decent rivalry unless it was an equal challenge. 11: ) Thanks! He never gets the lovin' he deserves. 12: Lol, yeah. He's like the token mini-bot or something. 13: Do they even exist anymore? 14: Of course not, he's Prowl. It's not in his job description. He's checked many times already. 15: Well, why not? It's usually their fault. 16: Probably seared his ears with his… colorful language first. 17. Yup, he's got one coming along nicely. Easier to write for than I thought he'd be. Um, visible or altogether?


	19. Tracks

Part Nineteen

Tracks was having a lousy day.

A slag-sucking, Primus cursed, and all around craptastically lousy day.

The kind where you just want to kill someone, but you can't because of all the messy paperwork that entails. So you just have to kill yourself. But you can't do that either, because you see no reason to punish yourself for the stupidity of everyone around you.

It had actually been a lousy day in the making ever since last night. Some stupid Autobot, probably red and of the Lamborghini variety, had thought it would be just hysterical to throw cherry bombs at him while on patrol. Startled by the miniature explosions at his tires, Tracks had hydroplaned on a nearby puddle and crashed into the nearest ditch. The damage was mostly external, thankfully, but that did nothing to improve the blue warrior's sour mood.

Having to suffer the humiliation of looking like the loser of a car derby all through the night was painful enough. But now that he was off-duty for a few hours, the only thing Tracks wanted was one of his human friends down at the shop to work on him and fix the damage.

As he stared mournfully at the 'closed' sign, Tracks came to the sad conclusion that there would be no salvation for him this day. Bah, Memorial Day… what the slag did that mean anyway? He didn't see the Autobots stop protecting the humans just because they had their own holiday celebrating the freedom of Cybertron from the Quintessons. What had he done in a past life to deserve this? Well, he still had some free time; may as well begin the search for another body shop in this city. One that hopefully didn't close because of some silly holiday.

The rain was coming down as hard as ever, reflecting his inner turmoil. To add to that, his rear left axle squeaked loudly every time he braked, drawing plenty of attention from pedestrians as he drove through Portland. Now Tracks was a fan of Earth and its humans, and he loved the attention they gave him. But this was all the wrong kind of attention they were paying him, and it was all he could do to not yell at them to mind their own fragging business.

So focused was he on the woes of his life, the battered Stingray Corvette didn't notice the light changing to red and rolled right on through it. Two oncoming cars swerved out of the way to avoid hitting him, one ending up ramming a fire hydrant instead. After that, the situation just snowballed out of control.

Snapping to attention at the sound of multiple horns blaring, the bewildered Autobot pulled to the side and transformed. "Oh no…" he moaned, surveying the mess he'd made of things.

In the end, he'd caused a 3 car pile-up, another car colliding with a fire hydrant, half a dozen pedestrians narrowly missed by a large semi-truck that had toppled on its side and was now spraying oil sky high from its punctured container.

Whoops.

A light pain by his foot drew his attention down from the messy scene before him. Standing not 3 feet away was a herd of young male humans, perhaps a year or two younger than Spike when the Autobots woke up. The little punks were throwing things at him from hand-sized rocks to whatever debris lay upon the ground.

"Watch what you're doing, metal-head!" one of the children spat at him, smacking him again with a metal pole.

"Get out of here!" yelled another.

Why those miserable little…

As stated previously, Tracks loved Earth and its inhabitants. But these knee-high punks chose the worst possible day to throw things at the worst possible Autobot. Thoroughly annoyed with life, the universe, and everything, he bent down to look at the twerps optic to eye. "Listen, flesh-bags," he growled. "I am in a dreadful mood and if you don't wish to find out just how dreadful it is, I would suggest you cease and desist."

"You don't scare us," the largest of the four declared brazenly. "You're just a giant tin can. Besides, you're an Autobot and you can't hurt humans."

That was it.

Delicately, as he really didn't want to kill the little carbon-based nightmare, Tracks lifted the child by the back of his t-shirt, and stood up. Still keeping the suddenly terrified boy at optic-level, he hissed, "boy, do you honestly believe I can't just drop you and call it an accident?"

Shaking in his gym shorts, the teenager shook his head. "N-no?"

"Good answer." He put him down before any of the other humans looked over at what he was doing. While he certainly loved their culture, the beings themselves could be so irrational at times… Fortunately for him, there was such a mess in the street that no one even cared to pay attention to the mech who'd created it. Not that that would last long, however. The Corvette would do best to make a quick getaway.

Tip-toeing as best as a giant blue robot could, Tracks let out a sharp curse when his communicator let out a shrill beep. All eyes turned to the Autobot who was trying his best to disappear. Cautiously, watching the angry crowd, Tracks tapped his comm. to answer. "Yeeeesss?" he drawled slowly.

"Tracks this is Prowl," an even voice responded. "The sensors tell me you are in the Northeastern sector of Portland."

It didn't seem much like a question, but… "I am."

"I need you to go to the coordinates I'm sending you. There's a human by the name of Anthony Gillen. We believe he is doing business with the Decepticons, and need someone to help keep an optic on him today."

"But today is my day off," the Corvette protested. Wasn't there anyone else on the slagging roster who could do it?

"Sideswipe and Sunstreaker will be there to assist you. But you know the area better than anyone else. I apologize for the inconvenience, but I have no options left available."

He had to ask, didn't he?

"On my way," he sighed, seeing no way out. Well, if anything, it would get him out of this sticky situation concerning slagging mad humans and possible further damage to his exterior. Considering how scrapped he looked already and the actual harming capabilities of a hundred-point human, Tracks knew that he had very little to worry about.

But still… they looked pretty mad.

Fortunately for him, evolution had given him the advantage. Being 25 feet tall finally paid off on this planet as he quickly left the growing angry mob behind.

Prowl would be hearing about this he was pretty sure. The Datsun always did.

OoOoOo

"Wow, Tinkerbell, you look like shit."

Ah yes, Tracks knew he didn't like Sunstreaker for a reason…

"Good afternoon to you too," he replied stiffly, coming to a halt in the parking spot in between the brothers, pretty sure they had planned it that way but not finding it in himself to care.

"What happened to you, Tracksy?" Sideswipe made a poor show of hiding his snicker. "Did you drive into a tree or something?"

"A _ditch_ actually," the warrior snapped back. "As I'm sure you're well aware."

"Why, Tracks!" the young Lambo cried, shocked at the assumption. "I'm quite sure I have no idea what you're talking about."

Tracks was quite sure the red warrior was full of shit, as Raoul might say. But there was no way in the Matrix he was going to stoop to his level to quibble about the matter. Sideswipe would get his eventually and all Tracks asked was that he be there when it happened.

When the few attempts the brothers made to rile up the other resident egotist failed, the three settled into their roles as quiet non-living cars. Though if this human Anthony had half a functioning processor, Tracks mused, he'd know the three of them the nanoclick he stepped out of that building.

The wait was not too long, though in the poor warrior's opinion it definitely could have been shorter. If one more human looked at him with pity and then admiration toward the brothers, he was going to snap. Love for humans be damned, he'd had quite enough reminders that he looked like a junkyard reject.

As predicted, the moment the human in question saw three primary-colored sports cars sitting outside, he knew them for what they were. He pocketed the documents he'd been carrying and bolted like the Unmaker was on his heels.

With a holler of glee, the brothers tore after him, not giving Tracks a second thought. Wonderful, that would just make it easier for him. He may look like warmed-over slag, but he was just as deadly now as ever. Fortunately for him as well, his wings had not been damaged during Sideswipe's little prank. With a quick burst of fuel through his engines, Tracks was airborne.

With the two brothers chasing on the ground and he in the air, Tracks had no doubt that the human would be quickly caught. Now all he had to do was be the bot doing the catching and his day might be worth waking up for after all.

He finally caught sight of Anthony racing through the one of the back alleys where cars could not follow.

Foolish human, didn't he know that that would stop neither him nor the twins? It would only serve to tire him out, thus making him easier to catch. He was a human, for Primus' sake. One would think he'd be clever enough to go where a giant metal robot couldn't. Ah well, he wouldn't curse his sudden bout of good luck. The twin terrors were far behind giving him the perfect opening he needed to apprehend young Mr. Gillen.

Diving down, he skimmed the tops of the buildings, optics set firmly on the running human. The sound of his engines must have alerted Anthony, because the human paused in his mad run to look up at him, little squinty eyes widening in fear. Good, he should be scared. Tracks was fairly ticked off at the world right now and he would like nothing better than to take it out on a Decepticon ally.

Then the human did something Tracks did not expect.

Anthony reached into his pocket and pulled out a gun. He must have known that Tracks, as an Autobot, would be hesitant to vaporize a human, Decepticon ally or not, because he didn't run for cover as well. Snapping off a few quick shots, he raced off again.

Unfortunately for Tracks, the human was a damn good shot and he found himself becoming quickly reacquainted with the ground in a most painful way.

Pretty much the only thing that was still functioning after that most degrading fall was his audios, much to his immense displeasure. Sunstreaker's hysterical laughter was his music all the way home. Primus, being carried by him like a sack of scrap metal was bad enough without hearing him as well.

Some days it just didn't pay to get out of one's berth.

**Murphy's Law of Warfare: Near death, but still alive? There is nothing wrong with physics, God doesn't like you.**

A/N: This was started and finished many weeks apart, yet ironically it was started on a day from the Pit and ended on a day from the Pit. Ah well, nothing a good order of sweet and sour chicken can't fix! Anyway, yes I am a Tracks fan. No I am not afraid to admit it.; )

Reviews!

DesertCat87: I thought it was oddly appropriate for Rumble to do the deed rather than a larger Decepticon. Yup, Omega won't hear the end of that for a good long while. Thanks, Des! Go goldfish! –bubble bubble-

Turbomagnus: Yeah, I'd be careful of what I say or do to Omega lest I invoke his wrath. He's no fun when he's mad at ya. Hahaha, oh you know it! Rumble's ego'll be too big for his little body after this.

MariaShadow: Thank you, it wasn't easy lemme tell you: ) I always missed seeing him in the show; he was such a fun guy. Lol, thank you!

Tiamat1972: XD Glad you liked it and that you didn't choke on anything. Nah, Megs or Screamer would be too easy, had to make it a bit more difficult at least ; ) Well I said I wasn't taking any more request, but I'll make an exception just for you. You're absolutely right, there isn't one for Sides, is there?

Draange: Well, we'll have to wait for another day, won't we? Oh Rumble, you little tough guy you. ; ) I'm sure most of it was sheer luck though.

Angelus Prime: -sigh- He's a tough one alright, and I've never written for him before either. The original Murphy's Law (do you know it?) is real. The others can be found with a yahoo search, but I don't know if they were ever published.

TruebornChaos (I think it's you, you didn't leave a sig): Love the quotes, I just wish he had many more. While I was writing this thing, all I could think of was 'well, at least Beijing's too big for him to track me down in.' I've never written for Omega before and I didn't want it to be too obvious ; ) But I'm glad it met your approval, especially since it was your request. Lol, yeah it does remind one of an old Godzilla movie… Well, why not Rumble? I figured that would be the one guy you wouldn't expect. Well of course it was a lucky shot ; ) This is Rumble after all. Hey, Screamer's lived for how long and not gotten his aft shot up? Either he's incredibly lucky or smart. I like your suggestions, I'll see what I can do. Aw, you're gonna make me blush ; ) Thank you, but if I do screw up, I do trust you to give me a good smack for it. Love the list once again! On a more serious note, I firmly believe that Starscream doesn't actually want to be leader. But more on that later…

Roadblock: lol thanks! You'll just have to wait and see who's up next, won't ya ; ) Oh and watch out, he has a killer throwing arm.

ShannonL: Ooh, don't believe I've met you before. Welcome to the show if that's the case! Hm… humans are a thought. I do have a lot of chars to do, if I can fit in a human, I just might do it. Let's see how motivated I feel ; ) Thanks, those two chapters were two of my favs to write. Love the Prowl!

Stormwind: Er… thanks: ) Well Rumble just hit a cord that disrupted energy. Like pinching a nerve in humans I guess. (Yay voodoo robotics!) It was the shot, not the actual weapon.


	20. Mirage 2

A/N: Yup, another one for 'Raj. Why? Well first of all, he doesn't get enough love. Second of all, being a military girl going into Intell work, I couldn't resist this law. And thirdly, I just plain love him!

Part Twenty

"You are positive your information is correct?" Prowl asked.

Mirage nodded, slightly miffed that it even needed to be asked. "I'm positive," he answered.

Sensing the white and blue bot's indignation, the tactician nodded in acquiescence. "I only wish to be sure."

"Yeah, you know what they say about military intelligence," snickered Cliffjumper.

Mirage did not respond, but send the mini-bot a frosty glare. Insolent little braggart… Without Mirage's priceless services, the Autobots wouldn't even know what direction to shoot in.

Some of the others chuckled at the mini-bot's comment, but no one said any more about it. A good thing too, because he was in a very sour mood this day. Many different things helped contribute to his day-from-the-Pit, but at this point he couldn't recall them all. Needless to say, this was not a good time for loud and obnoxious midget-bots to be dishing out abuse.

"Then here is what will happen," Prowl turned to the assembled masses, strategies visibly flying through his processor at lighting speed. Each bot he incorporated brought him closer and closer to victory much like the various pieces on a chessboard. They came with their own special abilities that Prowl would see used to the fullest extent. And as he talked, those chosen for this mission became as confident as he in the plan. Everyone knew their place, their job in the larger unit. Optimus Prime himself stood to the side and let his Vice take control of what was clearly his arena.

It didn't take long to explain the strategy for the upcoming battle. While not very complicated, it did require a bit of equipment. The terrain was rough and uneven, so most of the traveling would have to be on foot and their long-range weaponry carried. Also as this required only a few select bots at a time, each one would have to carry quite a bit.

Most of the bots didn't mind this situation so much, though there was some good-natured complaining about it. Each soldier was confident that they could do their part. After all, Prowl wouldn't ask them to do the impossible.

To Mirage's delight, as he was in charge of leading them to the enemy, he was not required to carry much of anything. He had marked out his trail and it would require far too much stopping, dropping, checking, and picking up again that they'd sooner avoid. Not that he wouldn't be able to do his part, of course, but he also hadn't been looking forward to it.

Once everyone was properly assigned to their units and equipment, Optimus gave the word for his Autobts to roll out. It was easy going for about half an hour. They maintained their vehicular modes for as long as possible with their smaller equipment happily subspaced and the larger in Prime's massive trailer. However it was not to last as their path became rocky and jagged, impossible for even Hound to traverse in his alt. mode.

Three miles into the march, most of the good-natured belly-aching had turned into bad-tempered quibbling. They were still confident in the mission; they just didn't want to be the ones to do it.

"This is drone work," moaned Tracks as he lugged a 3 ton missile-launcher and tripod.

"Shut your yap, princess," Sunstreaker growled as he hauled his own considerable load. "I'm carrying twice the slag you are."

"I highly doubt that, sunflower, as you can't even lift a third of your body weight," Tracks sniffed imperiously and walked past the halted Lamborghini.

Thoroughly insulted, Sunstreaker dropped his bag, full of live ammunition mind you, and clenched his fists. "You wanna come over here and say that, Tinkerbell?"

Jazz moved quickly to intervene before the bag decided to make itself known and they spent the next three weeks looking for Sunstreaker's pieces. "Woah now, fellas, we're all carrying the same amount. No need t' get all bent outta shape. Let's just get the job done, ok?"

Jazz was the only ranking officer, besides Prime of course, who the pair would willingly listen to during times like this. It probably had more to do with the fact that everyone liked the Porsche more than actual regs, but at this point no one cared. The scuffle ended without anything going boom and the march continued.

Or as Sideswipe so lovingly referred to it, The Trail of Tears pt. II.

Any attempts to convince the red Lambo that this was ridiculous failed. To him, it didn't matter that he wasn't Native American, getting kicked out of ancestral hunting grounds, dying, going some few hundred miles, or relocating to a piss-poor reservation. No, all that mattered to him was the 3 to 4 ton support structure for a gunning tower he had to lug around. Which, in his humble opinion, was quite enough.

Another mile in to the march, more and more people were beginning to agree with Sideswipe.

Mirage could finally see the outcropping where he had spied on the Decepticons. Turning back to the trudging company, he put a finger to his lips to indicate that they stay silent. "They're right over there," he told Prowl who had remained silent throughout their expedition. The tactician nodded and glared at those still bickering amongst themselves to be quiet. While he did not complain about the heavy load he too was required to carry, of course, he did look slightly relieved that the march was coming to an end. He was beginning to feel the strain of carrying so much for so long.

Putting down his equipment, Prowl followed Mirage to the outcropping to look over the situation. Optimus would have gone as well, but he was simply too large to sneak up effectively. Behind him, the company waited impatiently. They could only hope that Blaster's scrambling transmission was keeping them undetected from the enemy's scanners or this would be a very short, unpleasant battle.

Peeking around a hill, the two bots were shocked and dismayed to find that there wasn't one single Decepticon visible. Not so much as a cassette.

Looking at each other in puzzlement, the duo approached the spot where Mirage swore was once swarming with enemies. The footprints were there alright; Decpticons had been there not two megacycles ago. Yet the owners of those footprints seemed to have evacuated the premises since then. Not even a hint that they might return was there.

Prowl and Mirage sighed as one, gazing back in the direction where the rest of the unit waited more or less patiently. So who was the poor slagger who got to return first and tell everyone to turn back around and go home?

Now Mirage was not a smiler. Neither was Prowl for that matter. As such, Mirage knew a non-smiler's smile when he saw one, and his Vice Commander was definitely giving him a good example of one.

Mirage had the sinking feeling that his day was about to get infinitely worse.

**Murphy's Law of Warfare: "Military Intelligence" is not a contradiction in terms, "light infantry" is.**

**A/N:** Ok, so the final count for the Murphy's Laws for the Autobots comes to… well, a lot. 11 more pretty much definite with 7 others up in the air (insert author faint here). That being said, I write for whichever character feels like behaving at the moment, which basically means that any character could be up next. I have an inkling of who will be next, but not sure. So yes, occasional kicks in the butt are great for this story as well as my others. Continual nagging not so much. I'm not ignoring anyone or picking favorites; it's just about which character gets done when. I'm not mad at anyone, this is just a general heads up: )

**A/N2:** Keep in mind who you want for the 'Cons. I'll start taking requests soon. Not now, but soon.

**Reviews!**

Turbomagnus: He wrote the book actually. They happen to teach it at UMASS ; ) 1. I'm sure they did. The twins probably set their priorities like that. 2. I just yahoo'd it. I wrote in Murphy's Laws of Warfare, Doctors, Policemen, etc. I printed out a huge master list which is where I'm pulling the stories from : ) Sorry, I probably should have told you when I knew you were writing your GI Joe fic. My bad!

Vigatus: Thanks. I know it! The big guy needed some more screentime! Well it's only fair after all that the egomaniacs get put together. It's like a Murphy's Law within a Murphy's Law!

MariaShadow: I'm sure Tracks would agree with you there. I'm glad you liked those lines, they sounded like something he'd think up. Lol, hon, he's been getting his for 4 chapters of 'Nice Guy'. N v N? Oh, it's coming… (this would be an approvable 'kick in the butt' as mentioned in the A/N ; ) ) After all, you're one of the reasons I ended up finishing Me and My Shadow.

Blazer-6: They'll get done when they get done. You picked some toughies for me ; )

Angelus Prime: Well it's not really complicated. It goes as follows: 'If something bad can happen, it will. The one thing that cannot go wrong will go wrong. It will go wrong at the worst possible time.' It was named after a soldier named Murphy who said something similar. The rest is history! Nope, poor Tracks. I love him, but he's so much fun to pick on! I'm sure it sucks pretty hard in fact.

That Crazy Halo Girl: Lol, sounds like you had fun. Thank you! The traffic accident scene was actually inspired by a near similar occurrence caused by yours truly…

Roadblock: Aw, sorry to hear that! Lol run boys run!

Tiamat1972: -hugs- Hope it made you smile during your bad week. Lol, actually of the twins, I prefer Sunny. I think that Sunstreaker is psychologically more interesting and I just plain love the deadly daffodil. I surprised myself with all the featuring he's been doing. The dear just snuck up on me like that! Honest! I think it might be that he's slightly easier to write and so much fun as well. I should probably stop giving him the limelight so much; his head is going to explode! Oh, and about the goldfish thing… well… you'll see eventually. I think. : ) Mostly it's just me and Des being geeks, but there is a story behind it.

TruebornChaos: Lol yeah I thought it might have been. Aw, I haven't seen that episode in forever, I think I should whip it out sometime soon. Well, I put my money on Ratchet as far as shutting the other up. Well, I aim to please after all ; ) my stuff is predictable, can't have it too predictable though! Ok, now those two I've definitely heard of. I'll see what I can come up with. Nice quotes btw, I love it! Starscream is definitely complicated. And I'll be rambling all about that in his law, I'm sure…

PuraJazzBot: Y'know, you still need to put some of my curiosity to rest about that fic… 18: True that! Us short people have to stick together! 19: You took the words right out of my mouth.

HunterBlues: Here's a secret: I didn't either before I wrote him. (shhh don't tell anyone!) Yeah we are! Lol, I'm sure Tracks would strongly disagree with you on that one. They're both strutting pretty mechs (and I love 'em both!) Lol, then you must have enjoyed 'Mr. Nice Guy' if you like an angry Prowl. Assume away! I doubt Sunny's first priority was collecting Tracks.


	21. Windcharger

Part Twenty-One

This would be a lot more fun if they had let him do this his own way.

Windcharger grumbled to himself unhappily as he crawled up and over the remains of a long fallen building. He had just gotten out of the Academy not a solar cycle ago and plopped into this squadron soon after. Under the command of a new Prime named Optimus, the unit had earned notoriety as being an elite group. Of course, this only served to give them more work to do as the Decepticons became intent on bringing this elite group down.

He eyed his target and did his best to restrain himself. No, he reminded himself. He had to be patient. For once in his life, he had to wait until the right moment. Those were his orders and he'd seen what happened to those who didn't follow orders. Brig time or some other serious punishment. Of course that was also assuming you survived whatever stunt you pulled. He'd give his cadre credit; they knew what they were doing. If they gave you an order, you'd best obey because it was your best chance for survival.

Which was one of the only reasons he wasn't rushing out there to do this thing as he wanted.

Unlike many of his comrades who had special gifts, he had not shown them off at every opportunity. He was not that stuck up noble who liked to disappear and reappear at his pleasure. He wasn't that young gunner who could hit a target at impossible distances. He wasn't that tracker who could create illusions.

Because if you were special you were dead.

It was better to be a nobody. Because the special ones got the special assignments. Usually they got the special deaths too. The Cons would want you gone that much more just as the Bots wanted the special Cons gone. That teleporter, Skywarp he thought his name was. Oh he was a fine target in battle, one that the cadre were keen to bring down.

Unfortunately, Windcharger was special like it or not. His powers had finally been discovered by the higher ups during an accidental display. Well he couldn't very well have let that beam crush his friends, could he? In any case, Prowl had seen him use his magnetic powers, and instead of being angry at him for not speaking up about them sooner, he was actually pleased. This was a perfect opportunity, he had explained to Windcharger. The Decepticons knew all about the abilities of Hound, Mirage, Bluestreak, and the others. But they had no reason to look out for him. He might be able to do what the others couldn't.

Windcharger was no coward and nor would he refuse this mission. He was afraid of nothing! It was just that… he could hear the frontline Autobots way behind him. The mini-bot was on his own now. Not even the twins would be able to help him if he found trouble so far into the Decepticon lines.

The Seekers roared above him and he lay completely still against the pile of slag metal he was crawling on. It certainly helped that they were so far away from the city they were protecting. No lights were there to betray him. His coloring as well worked nicely in his favor, even if there were lights to shine upon him. So long as none of the Decepticons took more than a passing interest in just another lump of metal, he was safe.

The immediate danger passed, Windcharger got back up and snuck toward the back lines of the Decepticons again. Wouldn't this just be so much better to do it his way? Quick in and out?

But no, Prowl had been adamant about this. It had to be slow… but this was just too slow! Surely it wouldn't hurt to speed things up a bit. He moved swiftly now, leaping over slag and dodging surprised Decepticons like they were nothing. Now this was more like it!

"Freeze, Autobot!"

He might be eager, but he wasn't stupid. Windcharger skidded to a stop at the command, putting his hands up in the air.

There was a harsh bark of laughter from one of the Decepticons, he wasn't sure what his name was. A tall Seeker, black and violet colored. Young.

"This ain't an Autobot," he cried with glee. "It's a retro-rat gone missing from its nest."

He was a what!

"Ooh, careful 'Warp," another Seeker said, this time white and blue. "I don't think he liked that much."

"Oh, what's he gonna do?" a green bot snorted, flanked by 5 similar looking ones. Brothers perhaps? "Shake all over us? Look at him, the puny little thing."

Yeah, that's right. Puny little thing…

Those not actively fighting in the front of the lines were starting to wander over now, bemused by the mini-bot caught in enemy territory. What was he doing so far from his flock?

Yes, come see the cute little retro-rat. Just a little more. Just a little closer…

A brilliant white flare lit up the sky for a moment exploding in a shower of sparks. To the Decpticons, this meant nothing. Some backfired weapon probably. To Windcharger, it meant everything. It meant he could finally have some fun.

He'd saved up his energy reserves for just this moment, and it felt so… freeing to be able to tap into them. Stretching his gift to its limits, the small Autobot hoisted as many 'Cons up into the air as he could, firmly holding them in place. He made sure to squeeze a little on their armor as well ust to make things a bit uncomfortable.

Those not caught in his magnetic field were struck dumb at first, and any missiles sent his way were repelled by the powerful force he was creating. With so many Decepticons either incapacitated or utterly bewildered, it was nothing for the Autobots to make a clear split of the army and come charging through. The victory was quick and easy.

Never again would Windcharger be able to slip into enemy lines like that. No, after this stunning debut of his gift, the Decepticons were always keen to know just where he was. But the loss of this was such a small price to pay. The city had been saved that day, and without a single casualty. He couldn't bring himself to simply crush the life out of those held at his mercy. They were defeated for the moment. Killing them now would just go against what he believed in.

Not to say he didn't rough them up properly before letting them go. After all, they had called him a retro-rat, the little fraggers.

**Murphy's Law of Warfare: Try to look unimportant; the enemy may be low on ammo and not want to waste a bullet on you.**

**A/N:** Sorry, this one took a while to get up. I still seem to be in a bit of a rut, and as such I've become rather ADHD when it comes to my writing. Just keep bugging me, it'll get done. I'd also like to thank everyone who read and reviewed on 'Scarred.' Anyway, Windcharger was surprisingly fun and smooth to write, mental block aside. I think I should do more with him in the future.

**Reviews!**

Tiamat1972: Eech, I feel your pain. I worked at a farm once, a family owned one, and had five bosses all telling me different things. And the customers… Lol, I definitely agree that Sunny is the more interesting of the pair psychologically. Well, I think Sides is just a bit more subtle about it, but of course he thinks rather highly of himself. He's Sides! Hm… not a bad idea… No! I can't give in to any more bunnies! I can't!

Crystal Shekeira: Thanks, I love hearing from new people: ) Excellent! Another 'Raj fan out there! Fans of his are far and few between I think. But thank you, his two laws, especially the first, were some of the most enjoyable to write. Your welcome, always willing to help a friend smile!

AngelMouse5: Thanks, I hope I keep it up. I'm sure they would disagree about loving it, but as long as you don't say it to their faces…

MariaShadow: Let's hope he can run fast enough, because I don't think they were very happy with his little piece of info. Thank you: )

Vigatus: I think the Aerials would be more subtle than the Dinos actually ; ) They're not exactly stealth master ninjas. And yes, it is a very good thing for 'Raj and Prowl that they weren't involved in the field trip. It's a deal! You write and I write!

TruebornChaos: I think it's a very very good thing he can turn invisible. Because I think he may need to become so rather quickly. Well if Sunny and Tracks could get along for 5 minutes, I think they would be an awesome team. Ah yes, leave it to Sides to find some morbid humor in it all. Lol thanks. Alright, I'll forgive you for the lack of 3 pages. This time ; )

PuraJazzBot: Heya girl! Lmao, yeah it does! Well I think Primus had a little hand to play in it as well… An all powerful deity has to get his kicks somehow, after all.

HunterBlues: Well-behaved, yes. But I don't know how intact he'll be after that one.


	22. First Aid

Part Twenty-Two

"Are you sure you'll be ok, kid?" Ratchet asked for what seemed like the umpteenth time.

Feeling like a sparkling being left on its own for the first time, First Aid managed to keep an air of friendliness around him at all times. "I'm positive, Ratchet," he insisted. "You go on and relax for the night."

"But what if…"

"Please, Sir," the younger medic edged in gently. "There's been no sign of Decepticons for weeks. Both Sunstreaker and Sideswipe are down and out since that stunt out by the slopes. What could possibly happen that I can't take care of?"

"Don't test karma, kid. It doesn't take kindly to medics. I'd still feel better if…"

"You won't feel any better unless you get some rest. You used up all your free time patching up Tracks yesterday. Go on."

"You'll call me if something happens?" The CMO still seemed wary of leaving his domain to the young and inexperienced medic.

"Of course," First Aid lied smoothly. Oh sure. Bring in big papa Ratchet to fix everything and he'd never be trusted with the med-wing by himself ever again. No, he'd take care of it and let the poor senior officer get the rest he needed. At the very most he'd enlist Wheeljack's help if he needed it. While the engineer was Ratchet's best friend, he also wouldn't embarrass the young Protectobot by saying he couldn't handle it.

Convinced at last, Ratchet collected all his datapads and tools and put them away. On the way out he called, "the instructions for the patients are on my desk. And don't forget to keep that slagger Tracks off-line till morning. If you don't, he'll bitch your audios off. Night, kid."

"Goodnight, Ratchet."

Finally. He was gone. The med-wing was his now.

Smiling to himself beneath his faceplate, First Aid surveyed the room. For tonight, at least, he could act as the CMO. But someday he wouldn't have to pretend. Someday he'd have his own medical unit be it here or at another assignment. The Protectobot had no misconceptions about himself. He knew he still had a lot to learn before the day Ratchet declared him ready. But he often felt as though the older medic didn't trust him enough, that he was too hard on him. He was a great teacher and superior, but would it kill him to pat his student on the back now and then for a job well done?

Oh well, that was just the way Ratchet was. Perhaps the extra rest would do some good for him after all. First Aid was medic enough to know that his CMO rarely, if ever, got the sleep his body so desperately needed to keep up the insane work load.

Now then… sensei tucked in for the night? Check.

Patients tucked in for the night? Pending.

He entered Ratchet's connected office to find the datapad previously referred to. Lo and behold… it wasn't there. A datapad _was_ there, but he doubted Ratchet was talking about the first three seasons of MASH.

What to do. What to do.

A holler of pain from the observation room brought him out of the office. True to Ratchet's words, once Tracks was awake and semi-coherent, he made sure everyone knew about it. After what happened to him the other day, First Aid was quite sure he had the right to complain. But doped up on painkillers like he was, there was no way Tracks could feel all the agony he was so loudly claiming.

The young Protectobot tried his best to shush the blue warrior. As a medic he understood very well the rules of cause and effect. And Tracks' yells could cause some very bad effects to happen.

Sideswipe stirred.

Sunstreaker sat up sharply in alarm.

Cliffjumper activated an optical sensor.

Bluestreak groaned in pain as he too woke up.

Oh fantastic. Speaking of bad effects…

"Shut the frag up, you overgrown can opener!" Sunstreaker hollered right back in his usual courteous manner. Once the surprise of the rude awakening was past, the yellow warrior seemed intent in once again out-doing his rival, even in the obnoxious category.

"Tracks, please try to relax," First Aid tried valiantly. "You need your rest if you want to heal properly."

"Rest?" cried the wounded mech. "How can I possibly rest with that overgrown bumper car screaming my audios off? I require delicate care."

"I wouldn't be screaming if you didn't make so much damn noise with your squawking," Sunstreaker growled looking as though he was going to go over there and shut Tracks up himself.

"Squawking?" the blue warrior hollered in outrage. "I'll give you squawking!"

"Oh no you won't," First Aid pushed him back down on the berth. "Lay back down, Tracks, you aren't well yet."

The blue warrior was having none of it, using his larger size and considerable strength against the gentle medic.

With the yellow warrior looking like he would rise as well, First Aid had no choice left available. Pulling an emergency sedative syringe from subspace, he injected it into Tracks who promptly passed right back out. He nearly crushed the younger bot beneath him, but at least he was unconscious again.

Well, Ratchet did say to keep him knocked out.

First Aid sighed, coming to a morbid realization. He was becoming more like his mentor with each passing day. How long would it be before he started throwing things at people?

Pushing Tracks back onto his berth, he made sure a steady stream of painkillers and sedatives were given through an I.V. There, that should keep him out until morning. Now for the other ones…

"Um, First Aid? I don't want to bother you or anything, but…"

The medic's optics widened as he turned to Bluestreak. The young gunner, somehow, had managed to pull a cable out of his arm, cutting off much of the power that was keeping him from draining himself dry. His energy converter had been badly damaged, so this had been the only way thusfar before repairs could be completed. Already Blue seemed ready to keel over from the sudden energy drain.

Racing over, First Aid struggled to reconnect the loose cable, thus keeping their sniper alive another night. It was slick with spilt energon and even with his small delicate hands, it was difficult to reattach it. But reattach the cable First Aid did at last and not a moment too soon.

"Lay down and get some rest," he ordered gently.

Shrugging, Bluestreak shook his head. "Oh I'm not tired," he replied, "I could stay awake for megacycles!"

Oh please no…

A bark of laughter startled his attention away from the fully awake gunner. Sideswipe and Sunstreaker were both currently laughing at the irritated Cliffjumper. For some bizarre reason the small red warrior had decided to do a swan dive off his berth or something to that effect. Hanging by his medical cords and wires, Cliffjumper was suspended halfway to the floor, irreversibly tangled and cursing up a storm. If he wasn't careful, he could hang himself with one of those wires! Or worse… damage some of Ratchet's equipment.

"Cliffjumper, stop moving, you're making it worse!" the junior medic cried, making his way to his side.

"I'm fine, Primus-fraggit!" Cliffjumper growled, jerking around a bit more in an attempt to free himself. In the process, he only re-injured his left leg by hitting it against a leg of the table.

The twins laughed harder than ever.

Half fearing he'd have to knock the mini-bot out as well, First Aid tried to untangle him before anything else got damaged. With all the thrashing that the red mini was doing, the medic had to be careful or he too would be tangled in the mess of wires and cables. How had he managed to make this much mess in so little a time?

"Er… First Aid?" Bluestreak's quiet voice made it to his audios even over the howls of laughter from the duo. "I think it came out again."

Turning his head around to look, the medic saw that indeed the gunner's cable had come out… again.

In his half-a-minute inspection of the Datsun's situation, however, he hadn't been watching what he was doing with Cliffjumper. His hands couldn't have possibly gotten that tied up that quickly, could they? It was impossible!

The cables and wires begged to differ.

"Medical, this is Prowl, please respond."

"This is First Aid!" he cried over to the med-bay's comm. on the wall. "Do you need something?"

"We had a small skirmish involving a few Decepticons in the city."

At this hour?

"Prepare the med-bay for about five incoming casualties. None appear to be serious, but at least two of them will need urgent care."

"Er… yes, Sir," First Aid mentally sighed to himself, still trying to loosen his hand.

To call for help or not to call for help?

Would Ratchet call for help?

OoOoOo

Ratchet walked merrily into the med-bay the next morning. He hadn't had an uninterrupted night's recharge in so long he barely remembered what one felt like. The kid needed a good pat on the back for the suggestion. It was probably boring all night anyway, First Aid should be bouncing off the walls by now.

"Mornin' Ratch," greeted Wheeljack headed his way with two mugs of energon in his hands. Passing one to the CMO who nodded in thanks, he joined him in his walk to medical. "You look oddly pleasant for so early in the morning. Did I miss something?"

"Just a full night's recharge," was the friendly reply. "Didn't you know? 'Aid sent me to bed early. Figured I was too stressed out or some slag like that."

"You? Stressed? Couldn't be," the engineer chuckled easily, earfins glowing in mirth. "No, I didn't know. I fell asleep in the shop again last night and just woke up a little while ago."

First Aid hadn't even needed to call Wheeljack for assistance last night? It really must have been a boring night.

Entering the main room of the med-bay, the pair was startled to see not only the original five patients that had been there the night before, but eight more all strewn about the room on various tables in various states of repair. All were stable and all were in a deep healing recharge. What in the world had happened and why wasn't Ratchet notified of this?

And where in the name of Primus was the medic on duty?

"First Aid?" called out Wheeljack, concerned when the young mech didn't show up to greet them like he usually did during the shift change.

"Kid, where are you? You have some explaining to do." Ratchet felt the good mood he'd woken up with gradually fade.

Stepping forward, he caught some movement out of the corner of his optic. There, to the right and under a work bench was First Aid. Curled up in a little ball and cuddling an arc welder like some grotesque teddy bear, the junior medic was completely oblivious to the world around him. In a deep recharge like his patients, it was cleat that young Aid had had quite a shift.

"Well," grumped Ratchet, crossing his arms. "Isn't that slagging precious."

"Oh lighten up, Ratch," Wheeljack chuckled, patting him on the back. "He just had a rough night."

The CMO shook his head as he moved to check up on their newest acquisitions, pleased to see that his apprentice had done well in his absence. Everyone was treated properly before the younger mech had decided to pass out in the corner. That didn't mean he wouldn't give him abuse for not calling him for help. "Yeah, and when he wakes up I'll give him a rough morning to go with it."

But first, he'd let him get his rest.

**Murphy's Law of Medical Procedure: When you cancel extra staff because it's so quiet, you are guaranteed a rash of admissions.**

A/N: I love 'Aid. I think that's all there really is to it. I've been blogging him in the lj rp and decided I really needed to finish this law for him. And with this, my 'writing rut' has officially come and gone.In other news... according to the Powers That Be, I can't write responses to reviews anymore. I was going to be a smart aft and rename them 'extended author notes,' but I figured not everyone would be amused ; ) So here's what I'll do. You keep reviewing as though I will respond and I will. Either using their 'responding method' or in some underhanded way in author notes. Possibly in this fashion…

A/N2: Someone may have mentioned a romantic dealing in NvN sans MS's. I shall ponder on this and see what I can do. Someone left me a three page review that made me cry with laughter. I shall ask this person to marry me as a result ; ) Somone asked about 'No More Mr. Nice Guy'. Yes, it will be finished sometime. There will be 7 chapters in total of that one. Someone came to 'bug the author'. I will glomp them. Others have been wonderful people and I love all their comments and ideas. (Yeah, it's 2 a.m. here. Please excuse the snarkiness of this 'not really a review response'.)


	23. The Troublemakers

Part Twenty-Three

"…And I need a summary of the Ops order and who will be on what unit."

Prowl nodded absently, typing that into the datapad as they walked. It wasn't even noon yet, and Prime seemed intent on keeping him busy until the early morning of the next day. He didn't mind it really. He loved this sort of thing. Organizing, delegating, coming up with the solutions… it was his life and he did it gladly. Prowl could hold his own against most in a fight, but in the end, he was a thinker, a problem-solver. And besides, however much work he had to do, there was no doubt in his processor that Prime would be up twice as long doing twice the amount of work.

"Prime," he edged in as his Commander paused in the list of things to do. "If you remember what we discussed yesterday, I think I've worked out the problems and I'd like to give it a try."

"Yesterday?" Optimus looked at him blankly. "Prowl, you'll have to be a little more specific than that."

"My idea for a new offensive on the Decepticons. If I find the right bots for the job, I believe I can…"

"You mean your infiltration plan? You'll excuse me if I am still a bit skeptical. It would be too dangerous. There would be no way to back them up once they're in. There's no indication that it will work."

"With the right bots, it won't be an issue."

"But where would you find mechs crazy enough to… oh sweet Primus." They stopped at the entrance to the main command room where a group of their disciplined and professional warriors were huddled.

And they used those adjectives loosely.

"Do it again!"

Very loosely.

Hound was currently projecting a very realistic hologram of Starscream onto Sideswipe who was prancing up and down like he hadn't a care, or functioning mind, in the universe.

"Oh look at me," he mocked in a high-pitched voice that was somehow meant to mimic the Decepticon Air Commander. "I'm the most powerful Decepticon in the universe! Fear my whiny wrath!"

The spectators of this were in a fit of hysteric at this impression, realistic or not. Even Sunstreaker, who usually at least pretended to be more mature than his brother, had trouble breathing as he sat on the ground laughing uncontrollably.

"Not feminine enough," giggled Trailbreaker. "Wiggle your hips more!"

The red warrior obeyed, looking very much like a demented femme while doing so. But there was no denying the striking similarity to the Seeker. The effect this had on the rest of the troops was enough to drop them to the floor, wheezing in their intakes for breath. Spike, perched on one of the chairs so he could see over their heads, clutched his stomach as though in pain even as he hooted.

Optimus and Prowl were speechless for a moment, unsure on how to deal with this non-sequitar. Finally a thought came to the Second-in-Command, an inkling of a thought, but it was enough to get his battle computer running. "Prime?" he ventured.

"You have my full authorization," the Commander replied before his second could even ask the question. "And my deepest condolences." Turning on his heel, Optimus returned to the sanctuary of his quarters. He knew a dangerous situation when he saw one, and fled the scene accordingly.

Prowl sighed to himself as moved further into the room. Prime would face an entire army of Decepticons and fight to the bitter, gruesome end. But when it came to the strange sub-culture of his more… creative soldiers, he was as cowardly as the worst of them.

The others took notice of their Second Officer in the midst of their mirth. Some tried to contain themselves to a dull roar. Some even tried to regain their 'professional' attitude. Most just beckoned him over to join in the fun.

Sideswipe turned around, finding himself optic to optic with a very non-amused strategist. But then… he didn't think he knew what Prowl looked like when amused, so he wasn't too concerned. Silence reigned for a moment as each mech in the room tried to discern just what was going on. Still looking for all the world like the Decepticon Air Commander, Sideswipe grinned wildly. "Afternoon, Autobot scum!" he chirped.

Prowl was not getting paid nearly enough for this.

Wisely deciding that speaking to Sideswipe directly would only result in a lowered IQ, the tactician immediately turned to Hound who was still chuckling quietly to himself. "How long are you able to maintain that projection?" he asked curiously.

"As long as he stays in range," was the prompt reply. Hound was proud in his ability to produce the illusion and it showed.

"Turn around," the Datsun requested of the now intrigued Sideswipe. It wasn't often that the uptight officer had an interest in his escapades. Nevertheless, he obeyed, turning his back on Prowl. The illusion covered his entire body, making it a complete disguise.

Prowl nodded approvingly of the hologram. He could see no difference in it and the real thing. Reaching a hand out, he tried to feel for the left wing of the Seeker, but only met air. Sideswipe was still Sideswipe, just covered in an illusion. He then turned an optic on the curious Sunstreaker who still sat nearby. "Come up here, please," he requested. "Stand next to your brother."

Eager to see where this was leading, the yellow warrior did so.

"Hound," the second officer addressed again. "Can you make Sunstreaker look like Starscream as well?"

"Child's play," the tracker replied proudly. Immediately before everyone's optics were two Starscreams, identical in every way. The twins were, in fact, twins.

"What about keeping Sunstreaker as he is and making Sideswipe look like Skywarp?" Prowl asked, though he figured he knew the answer already. The words were barely out of his mouth before he was faced with Skywarp and Starscream in all their Decepticon glory. Everyone's attention was now on Prowl and the two pseudo-seekers, wondering where he was going with this.

This was all he needed to see. Now what Prowl had to do was make some decisions. First, though, he needed his special ops officer. "Jazz, please report to the main control deck," he requested into his communicator, praying to Primus that the merry officer could maintain some sort of professionalism. He knew just how much fun Jazz could have with something like this.

"Right-o," was the cheerful answer.

As he waited, Prowl looked over the others assembled. He would need the twins, Jazz… but who else? Trailbreaker would do nicely. Tracks too. And one more… ah, Bluestreak would round it off perfectly.

An even six.

"So…" the voice of his special ops officer sang out as he entered the room. "What's the good word, hummingbi… er, Prowl?"

The Porsche stopped in the doorway, looking about as confused as a Dinobot in a spelling bee. Taking pity on the poor bot, the tactician decided to inform him of what was going on rather than let him guess. "Jazz," he said, "allow me to introduce Air Commander Starscream and his companion Skywarp."

Was that Skywarp waving at him cheerfully? For the first time in his considerably long life, the special ops officer was rendered absolutely, one-hundred percent, and unequivocally speechless. And if the situation weren't so bizarre, the company may have appreciated the moment for what it was.

"Let me explain," Prowl went on easily. "I have an idea but this idea requires your skills if it is to succeed…"

OoOoOo

"Man, how do I let myself get talked into these things?"

"It's not too bad, Ja... er… Thrust," the form of Ramjet tried to assure him helpfully. "I mean, it could be worse, couldn't it? We could be disguised as, oh I don't know, giant trees or something. What kind of trees could we be, do you think? I think I'm more like a maple, but do they get as big as me? And I wouldn't be able to move very much, so I don't think I'd like…"

"Blue?" Dirge let out a long sigh. "Please."

Ramjet wilted a little before perking back up.

They were hidden in a little alcove not far from the battlefield. Prowl would call them over when they were needed, but until then, orders were to stay put. 'Thrust' patted the small hologram projector located on his chest, making sure it was still humming happily without fail. It would not bode well for the six bots if any of their projectors stopped working before the 'Op' was done. He mentally snorted. Op, right! Prowl had only worded it like that so he could see his best friend in this get-up as well.

In fact, he had a theory hovering around this whole thing. This theory centered around the fact that the Vice Commander hadn't chosen one single flier for the job. Not one. When questioned about said fact, Prowl had merely looked innocently back and replied that if the enemy had all the Autobot fliers accounted for, it would take longer for them to figure it out.

Right, like they wouldn't figure it out immediately anyway. Well at least the 'infiltrate the Nemesis' plan had eventually been scrapped.

Currently 'Starscream,' in true Screamer and Sunny fashion, was sulking on a boulder, bemoaning his lot in life. Skywarp was there to make fun of him as always, and 'Thrust' had to wonder if Prowl hadn't type-casted as well as purposely put all the infamous bots together on this.

"Hey, 'Breaker, you ok buddy? You've been rather quiet."

The form of Thundercracker looked up and smiled at him. "It's all coming up roses here, Jazz. So when do we get to go do this thing?"

"Just as soon as Prowl gives the word, pal. He said once they took care of our counterparts, he'd give us a ring." He'd better at least. Because if he didn't, not even the 'can't maim your best friend' rule would save the black and white from Jazz. There was 'taking the fall for your team,' and there was 'a bit of humiliation' in order for an Op. to work. And then there was this.

The image of Dirge sighed drearily. "To find myself subjected to this kind of… of torture goes against my very unalienable rights as an Autobot. Not only that, but just standing here is going to make my joints creak and I just got them fine-tuned…"

"Hey Tinkerbell," Starscream looked up to glower at him. "If you don't shut your trap right now, I'm gonna…"

"Prowl to Jazz."

Halleluiah.

"Tell me you got some good news for us, man," Jazz responded. "I got Star… er… Sunny and Tracks ready to come to blows here. Again."

"A bit impatient are we?" Prowl was really choosing the wrong time to show his rare, but real, sense of humor.

"Pal, I've never been more capable of ending a mech's life in cold blood," was the dry response.

"…You do not have blood, Jazz."

"Look, man, can we go already?" He hoped he wasn't coming across as whiny. He'd hate to have that happen. It was hardly befitting his character, but right now he didn't care enough to actually prevent it. He wanted out of this op and he wanted out now. Preferably with all body part and sanity intact.

A sigh came over the comlink next, one that sounded like it sprang from disappointment. "Yes. The six Decepticons in question are now being distracted at a safe enough distance. You may proceed." Almost as an afterthought, Prowl added, "be careful."

That was all he needed to hear. "Alright, boys, let's do this thing!" he announced to the other five bots. While the responses varied anywhere from Bluestreak's nervous 'hoo-boy' to Sideswipe's excited 'let's do this thing,' the general consensus was that the sooner this farce was finished, the better everyone would feel about the matter.

As one, the group of six snuck onto the field, pretending to be the suddenly missing jets returning back to their side.

To Jazz and the others' credit, the other Decepticons were fooled for all of 5 minutes before turning their weapons on the newcomers. It either had something to do with the fact that Tracks chose the wrong moment to open his mouth to complain or that Bluestreak's hologram flickered for a few seconds after getting buzzed by a missile. No one was quite sure which.

Whatever the cause, Megatron was not so easily fooled by some holograms and bad acting. Fortunately, or unfortunately depending on how you saw it, the group of six infiltrators were right in the thick of the Decepticon line when the masquerade was uncovered. This meant that although the group would be feeling the effects of their mission for a good long while, they had been close enough to do some real damage. The Decepticons had been startled by the discovery, giving the warriors time enough to throw a few good punches while the rest of the Autobot forces advanced to finish the battle off.

And at the end of the day, Ratchet saw to their wounds, inflicting a few of his own for good measure. "Stupid," he cursed them all once they were safely recharging in his med-bay. "This whole thing was just one stupid stunt designed to throw me off the deep end once and for all! I know it!"

Prowl shook his head in regret, seeing that none of his brave Seeker Six were anywhere near consciousness yet. He knew very well what Jazz had thought of the mission. After all, they were the best of friends despite their many differences. At times the black and whites knew the other better than they knew themselves. Just as Prowl knew what Jazz's theory was on the matter, so did Jazz know Prowl's intentions.

Well he couldn't help it if the six most recent and prominent pains-in-his-aft ended up being perfect for the task at hand.

Besides, as 'stupid' as Ratchet and the others might claim the ruse to be, they had to admit it had been very effective. At the end of the battle, the Decepticons looked just as bad, if not worse, than the most injured of pseudo-Seekers.

**Murphy's Law of Warfare: If it's stupid, but it works, it isn't stupid.**

A/N: Not one of my favorites, but well… there it is. I felt bad about not updating anything in a while, so I took this off the pile, dusted it off, and finished it up. Like so many things of mine, this was originally meant to be a longer fic in and of itself before being put on the 'back-burner' and eventually moved to the 'Grunt's Guide' pile. Perhaps one day I'll go back and produce the actual fic that this was supposed to be. Perhaps not. Anyway, happy (belated) New Years everyone!


	24. Sideswipe

Part Twenty-Four

"Get out and stay out!"

Sideswipe just managed to duck the vibro-blade aimed at his head as he scurried out of the med-bay. Once he was clear of the CMO's throwing range, he breathed a sigh of relief. Man, Ratchet hadn't been too happy to see him today, had he? Well, it wasn't like he could blame him. It was the warrior's day off and there hadn't been a sign of Decepticons in over two weeks. Logically, there was no reason for him to show up in medical looking like he had. The only explanation was that he'd stirred up his own trouble, thus wasting Ratchet's valuable time.

And everyone knew just how much the medic loved having his time wasted.

Well at least he'd fixed the damage before starting to inflict his own. Maybe the red Lambo's charm was finally starting to take effect?

Yeah, and his brother was a big warm ray of sunshine.

Rubbing the back of his helm where one of Ratchet's smacks had made contact, he headed toward the lounge. With any luck, he could grab himself a mug or two of energon before the inevitable inquisition.

"Prowl to Sideswipe."

Sigh.

Maybe not.

"Hey, Prowl!" he responded to the comm. cheerfully. "I was just thinking of you."

"Indeed. Ratchet has just informed me that you are now discharged from the med-bay?"

"Er… discharged and then some," Sideswipe grinned though his superior could not see it. "You gotta tell him to work on his bedside manner, Prowl, because…"

"Please come to my office immediately. We need to discuss your behavior today. Prowl out."

Oh great. Well he hadn't been thrown into the brig for a whole two weeks. He was beginning to miss it anyway. There was that tic-tac-toe game on the wall he hadn't finished yet.

"Enter," Prowl said in an flat voice even before Sideswipe managed to knock on the door. How did he do that?

Yet enter Sideswipe did anyway, the most angelic smile he could muster lighting his handsome face. Not that Prowl was at all impressed, of course, but it never hurt to try. "Would you please explain what happened today?" the Vice Commander asked. "I was under the assumption that since it was your day off, we would not be seeing you in for repairs." Of course, this was Sideswipe, so he'd never actually held very high expectations to begin with when it came to him.

"It's a bit of a funny story actually," the younger mech started, grinning sheepishly. "See, there was this house…"

"Never mind, I don't think I want to know."

"But you just said you…"

"Sideswipe, just..." Prowl rubbed his chevron like a human might their throbbing temple. "Just go. I don't have the mindset to deal with this right now."

Not one to look a gift Datsun in the mouth, Sideswipe eagerly obeyed, fleeing the office like a den of Sharkticons. He was sure he'd be properly punished later on, but he would savor what freedom he had until then. Now he wasn't one to assume things or anything, but he had the feeling that free time was something he wouldn't see again for a very very long time. If he wasn't so used to it, he might even have minded terribly.

The lounge was filled with the usual bunch of bots that were off-duty at the time. Ah, and there was the object of his search. Sunstreaker sat in their usual spot on the corner couch, nursing a mug of mid-grade. It had been his day off as well, but he wouldn't be caught dead playing in the dirty city today. Not after a day of full bodywork and on a rainy day.

"Hey, gorgeous, come here often?" Sideswipe greeted, sitting next to him with a cheeky grin on his face.

At the sight of his brother, with a slight dent in the back of his head, Sunstreaker snorted in amusement. "There you are, slaghead. I heard you found some trouble in town today."

"You sound surprised."

His twin shook his head. "Yeah right. I'm surprised you're still in one piece. What happened anyway? Same usual idiocy that follows you like the plague."

Sideswipe leaned back in the couch, shrugging. "Nothing big really. There was this house…"

Sunstreaker sniggered, "with you, nothing is 'nothing big.' Never mind, I'll hear all about it later."

"Suit yourself, bro. But I still think…" his retort, clever though it would be, was interrupted by his comlink going off. Primus, he was popular today!

"Sideswipe, this is Red Alert." His voice was exceptionally tight that morning, there was no way he could have heard what happened so soon… was there?

"Hey, Red!" the red warrior chirped back. "To what do I owe the pleasure of your attention?"

"There appears to be a package for you," was the dry, suspicious response. "Something concerning your… activities this afternoon."

Now it was Sideswipe's turn to be puzzled, and all he could do was shrug to his brother's questioning glance. "I'll be right down," he answered, wondering what in the world could be down there waiting for him. He had already explained the situation to the police…

Not wanting to miss this, Sunstreaker decided to tag along as well. Soon enough, though Sideswipe wasn't sure how, word got around about this mysterious 'package' awaiting him in the Security Director's clutches. A little parade of 'bots began to follow the pair as they walked down to Red Alert's 'lair,' all commenting on what it could possibly be. A time bomb was one guess by some mechs who figured the highway patrol had had their fill of the red Lambo at long last.

Red Alert stood waiting just outside his 'lair,' a small brown package held in his hand. Without a word, he handed it over. "There _appears_ to be nothing harmful or contraband in it," he reported. "But it is rather… unusual. Care to explain?"

Gingerly Sideswipe opened the package as it was obviously better suited for a human hands than his large clumsy ones. Yet the wrapper seemed to take this into account and the object within was properly insulated against rough handling. Paper and bubble-wrap off, Sideswipe revealed the object to be a plaque with a small human-sized medal behind a glass covering. The medal was simple in design, in the shape of a heart and colored a deep rich violet.

"What's that?" Sunstreaker asked curiously, peering over his brother's shoulder.

Sideswipe held up the note that came with the gift. Once again, it was human-sized, yet his optics were sensitive enough to read it when held close enough.

'To Autobot Sideswipe, from one old soldier to another, thank you. I owe you my life and the life of my family for what you did today. I hope your injuries are not serious and that you recover soon. Feel free to stop by anytime, my son is eager to see you again to thank you in person. Eternally grateful: AF Cpt. Joseph N. Laspron.'

"So what did happen today, man?" asked Jazz, noticing the gift and letter, yet not really understanding.

Shrugging easily, Sideswipe subspaced the two objects in his hands. He would put them in a very safe spot later, but for now he would rather not have them be gawked at. "Oh you know me," he grinned. "Just the usual trouble."

**The Grunt's Guide to Warfare: A Purple Heart just proves that you were smart enough to think of a plan, stupid enough to try it, and lucky enough to survive.**

A/N: I had done Sunny, I had done the twins as a group, it seems only fair that Sides have his own as well. (Like I don't feature the little devil enough on his own anyway…) I decided to keep many things similar with it's 'twin' story, pun intended. It is humorous, yet serious as well. I also leave the main 'action' part of it mostly to the reader's imagination. I'm rather pleased on how it came out, what do you think?


	25. First Aid 2

A/N: Yup, another repeat character.

Part Twenty-Five

First Aid reclined in his chair, sipping on a mug of energon. He always loved this part of his day. The part where he and his brothers reunited from wherever they had been and just talked about their experiences.

Unless they were on a mission together, be it for battle or rescue efforts, the Protectobots rarely worked together having rather varied jobs. He was Ratchet's apprentice to become a better medic, constantly slaving away in medical. Hotspot worked with the higher ups most of the time as he was a team leader. Groove was usually with Hound in the wilderness. Blades helped out whoever needed an extra flier, working mainly in combat support. Streetwise often stayed in the city acting as interceptor.

Created together, like the Aerialbots, the Protectobots considered themselves brothers. And when not at work, they were all equals, even Hot Spot. That was another reason why First Aid enjoyed their time together at the end of the day. He wasn't their medic here, and they weren't his patients. Just five members of a family to relax and share stories with.

Currently Groove was explaining avidly about a new trail he and Hound had discovered just that morning.

"…It was just so open! Like… you could just keep goin', y'know? Like there wasn't an end!" he grinned with enthusiasm, trying to paint the image he saw with words. First Aid knew by his brother's expression that he couldn't possibly be doing the view justice, but his words nonetheless did a fairly good job of it. First Aid was hardly the mobile type, but he hoped to someday see what made him smile like that. Listening to Groove speak of his experiences always relaxed him, keeping his mind off current worries. "Hound said after our route tomorrow we might be able to go back and take Trailbreaker with us to see it. I'll need to remember a camera, guys; you don't know what you're missing."

The peace loving mech spoke of his two superiors with affection, especially Hound. The green tracker had taken Groove under his proverbial wing the week they'd entered the unit, and helped to hone his skills. In no time at all, there wouldn't be a mech or femme alive who could evade him. Nor would there be a Decepticon moving on the planet that he would not be aware of.

Sometimes the Protectobots would help Groove as well in his tracking skills. On days where they had off, they would split up, making him find them as quickly as possible. It both trained their abilities and his, made more enjoyable with a game. First Aid was never that good at it, usually either the first or second one caught each time. But he didn't mind it so much. It was fun either way, and any fun to be found on the front of war was to be savored.

Next came Blades' story of his past few days, parts clearly edited for the sake of his more benevolent teammates. "…course Fireflight said no one could go down that ridge without their wings getting fragged. So I just had to go down and show them how it was done." Blades snorted into his energon. "You shoulda seen the looks on their faces when I managed it without so much as a scratch."

The flier, of them all, seemed to have the most trouble fitting in upon their arrival. With all the confidence, bordering on arrogance, of an Aerialbot he often scorned those without the ability to fly. Yet he did not have the Aerialbots' ability to fly circles around the Decepticons, thus earning him the scorn of the other fliers who did not care for his flyboy attitude. While he didn't appear to mind the general unfriendliness shown to him, the other Protectobots knew it must bother him at least a little.

First Aid often found that he worried for Blades most of all out of his brothers. The red and white helicopter was the most likely to get himself into situations he couldn't get out of. His eagerness for battle and close combat, coupled with insatiable bravado, might very well prove to be his ultimate downfall. It was this total eagerness for battle that often set him apart from his more peaceful brothers. Of them, only First Aid flat out refused to wield any sort of weapon, yet Groove was not far behind. Streetwise and Hot Spot, while less pacifistic, nevertheless only sought violence as a last resort. But Blades… oh he was without a doubt the sword and rifle of the group.

Many often marveled that the others could even stand him let alone work with him. But what was often forgotten was the fact that no matter what, they were still family. They left him to his ways knowing that he was the reason they each continued to function due to his actions in the past. Likewise, he would be the first to jump to Groove and First Aid's defense if anyone dared question their bravery. Just because he did not practice what they did didn't mean he was any less aware of why they did it. Nor did he have a constant mentor like the others had, so he relied more on his teammates for support. This reliance gave way to fierce protectiveness that rivaled anything the infamous twins could dish out.

Chuckling at Blades' tale of daring twists and turns through a canyon ridge, Streetwise picked up the round robin next. "So Jazz and Blaster had this bet going that I couldn't trail this guy for a whole day. Some human named Darren Spencer that Prowl figured works for the 'Cons. Anyway," he waved his hand, continuing with the story. "I got up before my shift started…"

If Groove's stories relaxed the young medic and Blades' excited him, then Streetwise's definitely were the best source of entertainment. As the interceptor of the group, much of his time was spent among humans trying to get as much information as he could. Able to pick up the most minute detail and make a connection with it, Streetwise had become crucial to those whose job it was to monitor the Decepticons. Perceptive as he was, he could also adapt to nearly anything thrown at him, a trait that Jazz took great delight in. Together, the two of them would often traverse the city, acting and speaking like born and bred natives by the end of the day.

As the story went on, Streetwise explained how all day he had followed the human. Not only had he discovered that Spencer was indeed a Decepticon sympathizer, but he had learned nearly all of his personal information as well as the names of no less than five other humans connected with him. As determined as Sunstreaker on a wax-obtaining mission and twice as clever, it was little wonder that he had such great success in his assignments.

"How much did you end up winning?" Blades asked curiously at the end of the story.

Grinning like a Cheshire Cat, Streetwise pulled quite a few dozen credits from subspace to lay on the table. "One credit for every piece of useful information. Plus 20 extra for being able to keep an optic on him all day."

Chuckling at his satisfied brother, First Aid nodded toward Hot Spot curious for his story of the evening. "Well I didn't race through any canyons or drive through the city," the group's leader admitted. "But I did manage to catch Sideswipe in the middle of one of his pranks."

The others quieted down straight away to listen more carefully. Catching the red warrior was no easy feat, how had the Protectobot Commander been able to do it? Hot Spot, as the Commander of the Protectobots, had a responsibility to help keep order and discipline around the base. A responsibility that didn't only extend to his subordinates much to others' displeasure. And today it had been to Sideswipe's great displeasure.

First Aid knew his brother well enough to know that he wasn't always the tough leader everyone made him out to be. He loved a good joke as well as the next bot and he could be as empathetic as Bluestreak. Therefore he knew it had nearly broken the Protectobot's spark to report Sideswipe who had been setting a trap for a few of the mini-bots who'd been giving the twins trouble. Mini-bots who tended to give everyone trouble. No doubt there was a small part of Hot Spot that was almost sorry to have caught the prank premature.

As it was, the red Lamborghini was probably going to end up with less severe a punishment than if he had been discovered by any of the other cadre.

"What about you, Aid?" Streetwise asked curiously once Hot Spot had finished telling them his story. "You've been quiet all day."

"Is everything alright, man?" Groove added.

"That slagger Brawn isn't making an idiot of himself again, is he?" Blades scowled. Brawn always did enjoy making the young medic out to be a coward.

"No no," First Aid assured them. "I'm fine. Today was actually rather eventful."

"Well we did have that battle last night," nodded Hot Spot. "Were there many wounded?"

"Oh yes," the junior medic said. "There were about 14 casualties altogether if you included the minor injuries as well. A few were really serious as well."

"I was there for my arm before I left for the city," Streetwise verified. "Looked like you were up to your optics in mechs, 'Aid. Who were the worst hit?"

"Well it wouldn't have been so bad if we weren't short-staffed. Wheeljack was still hurt from that botched experiment two days ago, so he wasn't able to help Ratchet, Perceptor, and I with repairs. We had five major cases, and two of those were really touch and go at one point."

"Smokescreen was one, right?" Groove asked. "Man, I heard he found himself out in the wrong section of town, if you know what I mean."

His brother nodded. "The Decepticons caught him by himself during the battle as he tried to flank them, I think. Sunstreaker was the other one who we weren't too sure about." Reliving the hours spent in med-bay, First Aid spun them the tale of his day. So carried off was he with his own story, the young medic barely noticed the half-a-megacycle go by until it was drawing to a close. Nor did he notice any of his brothers' expressions as he spoke, simply assuming they would be just as enraptured as he was.

Well, at least he didn't put any of them to sleep.

"So then I dug through Sunstreaker's third grafting line for a little while before I found the source of the problem. Of course that didn't solve all the leaking. You wouldn't believe just how much suctioning I had to do! Nearly a full tank of mech fluid, anti-freeze, and the odd pocket of surface coolant. And that isn't even including all the shrapnel and dirt I found in there. His laser core was just in plain sight, when I dug my hand in to find the source of the leak, I had to clamp off a lot of the loose wires, and…"

"Oh Primus…" Groove moaned slightly.

Taking this as positive feedback, the medic nodded emphatically. "Yeah, it wasn't too easy, but I managed to do it. Of course, I accidentally snapped off some of the metal framing right between the left shoulder joint and the motion servos for his chest. I figure it was either that or have him bleed to death on the table. It snapped pretty good too, Ratchet said he heard it all the way across the room!"

Streetwise stared at him with wide, glossy optics and a gaped jaw. No doubt fascinated.

"And then there was Inferno! Oh you should have seen him, I've never seen a mech with a head injury like that before. Half of his helm had been shot off, but there didn't seem to be any actual damage to his cerebral processor. Just some loose wires here and there. A bit of glass shards I had to dig out, but it really wasn't that bad. His leg, on the other hand, was terrible! Nearly all the way twisted around, and…"

Blades choked a little, looking like he had just swallowed some really bad energon.

Giving his brother a concerned look, First Aid paused from his story. "Are you alright, Blades?"

"Fine," was the high-pitched reply. "I'll… just be right back." He stood up quickly, heading for the door. The medic thought he heard a mumble about him being sick or something.

"Are you sure? I could…"

"I'll go with him," Streetwise quickly followed the flier, looking nearly as ill. "C'mon, Blades, let's just get some energon in you, ok?"

"No! No energon!" was the emphatic reply as they made their way down the hallway from Hot Spot's room.

Hot Spot, absently patting the medic on the shoulder stood and returned to his desk in the corner, looking as disturbed as 'Aid had ever seen him. Groove just sat there, frozen, with a sick look on his face.

What was wrong with everyone? They all seemed alright before when they were telling their stories.

Was it something he said?

**Murphy's Law of Medical Procedure: Try not to discuss 'your day' at the family table.**

A/N: As I was writing this, I realized that this was swiftly becoming about each of the Protectobots. But as the punch line was Aid's, I still gave him the law as I intended. This has happened to me on many occasions; I'd be talking about something really oh-so-cool I saw on the Discovery Channel to my friends and they would just… well, you saw what happened to poor Blades. I know this isn't much of an action chapter, but for some reason, I still like it.


	26. Metroplex

A/N: Yeah, I'm not dead. I'm sorry this isn't one of the better ones, it's mostly to help me get back to finishing these up. I have a few more in various states of completion, and this time it shouldn't take over a year to update! Oh, and a few small things were altered from the LJ version. Silly time inconsistencies…

Part Twenty-Six

He remembered a child once asking him what it was like to be him. The first word that came to mind was 'boring.' However, that was hardly the proper response to a curious human staring at a living battle station. So he had gone on for some time about how his body functioned as both robot and city, making sure to keep his young audience enthralled.

But no, really, it was boring as anything.

For one thing, privacy was a foreign concept. When people were constantly running through one's insides, one did not have a lot of 'alone time.' The term 'multi-tasking' as well took on a whole new meaning when it came to the giant Autobot. With Perceptor running formulas through one end of him, Ultra Magnus ordering up a dozen screens at once at the other end, and Sideswipe painting a part of him somewhere in-between, it was a wonder he hadn't developed some serious neural issues by now.

Depending on who had evening monitor duty, he could sometimes find a good chatting companion. Blaster was always good for a late night chat, as was Springer or Rodimus Prime. Blurr was a bit too much for even him, and many of the others were simply too tired or too involved in their own thoughts to offer much in the way of conversation.

Thus, the one day where he was able to 'stretch out' as it were came as a very welcome surprise.

Apparently there was some big… something or other going on not too far away that required every last bot on base. Assured that a robot the size of… well… Metroplex needed no real protection; Ultra Magnus had allowed him to stay by himself. He was alone. For the first time in he didn't know how long, he was alone!

And he was bored!

One would think he would revel in being left to his own devices for a while. Yet he was so unused to the feeling of 'alone' that he had no idea what to do with himself. There were no Decepticons after him; they were all involved in the skirmish with the other Autobots.

He tried counting how many trees he could see, how many rocks, how many animals. He'd tried watching the clouds. He'd even tried dozing off for a little while, after closing up all his entrances tightly of course. Yet no matter what he did, the buzzing in his audios of 'nothing' haunted him. Itched him where he was unable to scratch. In the end, the giant Autobot decided there was only one thing to be done.

Bring himself to the action if the action would not come to him.

It had been a while since he used his vehicle form, and the gears groaned a bit from disuse. However it also felt refreshingly nice; like a good long stretch after waking up. If nothing else, he would enjoy the exercise. It was alright that he couldn't exactly move that fast in vehicle form; from the sounds of it, the battle wasn't going to stop anytime soon.

True enough, when he arrived, everything was still going full force. There were a good number of wounded on both sides, but not enough for anyone to call a retreat or draw. As he was not exactly small or stealthy by any means, Metroplex's arrival was duly noted by one and all right away.

"What the…." Galvatron's optics were wide as he saw the giant transformer moving itself forward and into the battle. He could already see his second-in-command's nervous twitch. This was not good. There were few places to retreat to at this location, and besides, they really needed this energy source. They couldn't just abandon it just because some bored behemoth decided to crash the party.

"Decepticons!" he cried out to his troops. "Concentrate all fire on that… that thing!"

What! He was most certainly _not_ a thing! Stewing in his indignation, the fortress didn't notice his faction running away from him until they were halfway across the field. Now what could possess them to leave the circle of protection he could offer?

His thought process was abruptly cut off as a rain of lasers and missiles came down upon him. It took but a nanoclick and he was eagerly returning fire. This was what he had come for! The others be slagged, this was fun!

As time wore steadily on, and the Decepticons and their missiles grew steadily greater in number, this exercise became less and less fun. Small scorch marks turned into larger burns, and dents into gaping holes. It wasn't long at all until Metroplex understood why it was that his fellow Autobots chose to attack the enemy from the side rather than alongside the enormous fortress.

It was simply safer that way.

**Murphy's Law of Warfare: Density of fire increases proportionally to the curiousness of the target.**

**Corollary: Odd objects attract fire. Don't stand next to one.**


	27. The Protectobots

Part Twenty-Seven

"Blades! Blades, where are you?" Hot Spot searched the skies for his temperamental brother in vain. In the back of his mind, he grew concerned when he saw nothing. What if something had happened to him? However, his more professional side won over and he just continued searching, keeping his cool on the field. Prime had given him the order to gather the other Protectobots and merge into Defensor. This battle just could not be won any other way.

Opening his comm. channel, Hot Spot tried again. "Blades, this is Hot Spot, please respond. Where are you?"

"Look up," was the reply. Just as the Protectobot looked skywards, he could make out the sight of a swiftly fleeing helicopter followed by Dirge and Ramjet, both of whom were looking like they were enjoying this too much. Had they wanted too, both jets could have blown Blades out of the sky without any sort of effort at all.

If the Protectobot flier didn't ask for trouble every cycle of his life, Hot Spot might even feel sorry for him. "Blades, stop playing around and get down here. Optimus Prime has ordered us to form Defensor."

"Playing? Who's playing! I need these two goons off my tail or I won't be forming nothing!"

"Did you radio the Aerialbots? Your pursuers are out of my range." Primus, he was his brother, not his creator…

"Yeah. Miserable slaggers just laughed at me. You know, Hot Spot, you should really use some of that fragging authority of yours and make them…"

"Perhaps if you didn't insult them all the time, they would be quicker to help you." The light blue mech sighed. Of all his brothers, the most troublesome one had to be gifted with flight, didn't he? Why not keep him on the ground where he might be kept under some semblance of control?

"Well perhaps if they weren't such fragging fly-boy hot heads, they might come down from their pedestals to help an Autobot in need." Blades made another sharp corner, hoping to get some distance between him and the two Decepticons. Not very impressed, Dirge did a lazy U-turn and Ramjet went into a series of barrel-rolls before exacting a tight hairpin.

"Just… keep yourself from getting blown out of the sky. I'll talk to Silverbolt and get you down. We need to merge as quickly as possible."

There was a groan over the commlink as the red and white 'copter responded. "Well take your time, Spot. No rush here. It's not like I'm _being attacked by two fragging jets or anything!!_"

Honestly, he could get so dramatic at times…

Mentally sighing, the young commander radioed his colleague. "Silverbolt, do you think you could send some of your bots to help Blades down? He has two Decepticons on his tail, and I need him down here to merge."

"Will do," his fellow commander answered dutifully. "But Hot Spot?"

"Yes?"

"I don't suppose you could tell your brother that in the future he should avoid taunting the only other fliers in the unit?"

Sigh. "Believe me, I plan to. Thanks again, we owe you one."

"Not a problem. Silverbolt out." Well, that was one crisis avoided. Now onto the other three. Hopefully they would be easier to obtain as they were all much lower-maintenance than Blades.

"First Aid, respond. I need you in the field; the order is to form Defensor."

"I'm busy," was the swift, curt reply. Oh perfect, he was choosing _this_ moment to be difficult as well!

"Well I'm sorry, 'Aid, but this can't exactly wait."

"They need a medic."

"And we need our left arm. I'm sure it's nothing that Ratchet, Wheeljack, and Perceptor can't handle. Come on, 'Aid."

With a sigh, First Aid replied, "I'm afraid you'll have to tell Prime we are unable to. Streetwise is currently wounded anyway, and I'm sure you wouldn't have him fight injured."

There was a pause, then… "Depends, how bad is it?"

"Hot Spot!" His gentle brother was absolutely scandalized which would have been much more amusing if they weren't currently under heavy fire.

There was a chuckle in the comms as a new voice piped in. "It's alright, 'Spot. I just have a twisted ankle, we'll be there in a nanoclick."

"Oh no we will not! Streetwise, you need to…" Hot Spot sighed and shut off his commlink in an attempt to find his fourth and final brother.

"Groove, this is Hot Spot, don't argue, just meet up with me, alright? We need to form Defensor."

"Aw, man, you're cramping my _style_, man! I got the vibes from this place and it's making me, like, relax, man. Put down that bang-stick for a cycle and just enjoy the _currents_! Ain't no reason to add to the cycle, y'know what I mean? It's the _cycle_, man! It's killing the currents! Defeat the cycle, bro, and lose yourself in the currents of _us_!"

There was complete and utter silence for a moment. "Groove, what in the name of Primus did you just say?" Sometimes he honestly did not understand what went on in that flighty processor of Groove's. Didn't he have a normal sibling who would just do as they were told? Maybe Wheeljack could be persuaded to give him a sister? Or four?

The motorcycle 'bot just sighed into the comm. "Nevermind, man."

Hot Spot paused a moment. "So… does that mean you're coming?"

"But bro! The cycle! It…"

Before he could listen to another tirade about cycles or currents or waves or _whatever_, the blue mech shut off his communicator. Perhaps Defensor wasn't needed so badly after all.

**Murphy's Law of Warfare: Things that have to be together to work usually can't be shipped together.**


End file.
